Mistress of the Labyrinth
by Pandorica 11
Summary: Ariadne should have know Athenian youths were nothing but trouble. When she wakes, abandoned on an island far from her home, the daughter of King Minos must transform from a piece in someone else's game, to the player of her own. Now, if only meddlesome gods of wine and revelry would leave her alone, she could seek her destiny in peace.
1. those damn athenian youths

**A/N:**

 **I've been sitting on this story since January, hesitant to publish the first chapter due to my track record of writing, and not being able to finish, leaving y'all high and dry. So this time, I've written like 75 percent of the story already, and I'm going to publish it in a few large chapters. This is Un-betaed, so there may be some really minor spelling and grammar errors, I think I covered most of them.**

 **Greek Mythology not your thing? That's fine! Don't read if you don't want to, and I'll try to post something a bit different here, soon.** **Greek Mythology your thing? Awesome, it's my thing, too. I really liked Ariadne's story, but was really bothered she never got to do more, this is my take on a possible outcome of her tale, post-Theseus. If you like this story or want a new chapter, like, tomorrow, please review. It would warm this girl's heart.**

Ariadne had always been inclined to an afternoon siesta. When the crew of the ship had built fires on the pebbly beach, and steamed mussels, clams, and numbers of savory scaled fish, roasted to perfection, she ate her fill at Theseus's side as the blind poet sang, accompanying the midday meal. She grew drowsy on her full stomach, and began to nod off to the melodic sounds of harp and voice, and rested her head on her hero's shoulder. Theseus smiled down at her, and his quiet laughter shook her awake again. "If you want to nap, take my cloak and find a spot on the beach. I'll wake you when the tide changes and it is time to depart once more."

"Thank you," Ariadne smiled, accepting the indigo blue cloak, and made her way down the beach until the voices of the men and the singing of the poet were muted by cries of seabirds and gulls and gently lapping waves on the shore. The Mediterranean sun shone above, heating the pebbles on the beach, but higher up, where the dune grass grew, it was cooler. There, Ariadne spread the woolen cloak on the ground and lay down, her lightly bronzed skin and dark locks absorbing the sun and salty air. More than that, she basked in happiness, the happiness of the freedom and love she had found with Theseus. She smiled to herself at the part she had played, giving Theseus the thread to find his way out of the daedalus's labyrinth, and defeat her bastard half-brother, the Minotaur. She had been hesitant, scared before, unwilling to stand up to the cruelty of her father, King Minos of Crete, but since her hero had arrived from Athens, she had been inspired to be better, to be more than a damsel, waiting for someone to take her away from a family of lunatics. She wouldn't be weak, like her mother, who had fallen in love with a bull, and born a hideous monster as Ariadne's brother. She wouldn't make foolish decisions, like incurring the wrath of the gods and being induced to fall in love with a beast. She had chosen Theseus, Theseus had chosen her, and they were to be married as soon as they arrived at his home in Athens. Lulled by beautiful thoughts and the sounds of the sea, Ariadne fell fast asleep.

It was coldness that woke Ariadne, some several hours later. A dull, pervading cold that chilled her bones and made her shiver herself awake. The sun sat low on the western horizon, no longer sustaining the heat so prevalent in the middle of the day. Ariadne rose, wrapping the cloak around her, and made her way back down the beach to find it empty. Not a soul was to be seen. Was this a game? Surely Theseus was hiding from her, as a joke. As the time progressed Ariadne liked the joke less and less and wondered how anyone was supposed to laugh at another person's expense. But where was the ship? Gazing across the bay, the princess could see no vessel with it's black sail. In fact, she couldn't see a single vessel at all. Was she going mad? Theseus was real. The ship was real. The crew, the poet, everything was real. Weren't they real?

Mind reeling, Ariadne sat down on a log before the remains of a fire pit, long since gone out. There were bits of shells and scales. So, at least the meal of fish made by the ship's crew had been real. And pulling the cloak around her more tightly, Ariadne guessed that Theseus would have to have been real, also, for her to now have his brilliant blue cloak.

The longer she thought, the more depressingly certain she became that she had been abandoned on a strange island in the middle of the Mediterranean, with no companions or friends.

She was tempted to cry, and a few betraying tears stole their way down her cheek, to be swept away quickly by her hand. Ariadne did wonder why she cared not to cry, there was no one there to see her weakness. She could throw a fit, scream at the sea, curse Theseus and curse the day that she met him, but no one would see her pain, and her cries would be absorbed into the rhythmic flux and flow of the water all around.

So she got up. She couldn't make a fire, but with oncoming night, she'd need shelter, if not warmth. Her island was small, as she had seen earlier that day, as their ship had approached for a midday pause. By area, she guessed it was half beach and half trees and shrubbery. She went in search of the spring that the crew had found earlier, knowing fresh water was key if she were to survive any great length of time.

Ariadne's flowing tunic was appropriate for a princess in a palace, but for Ariadne the strong, Ariadne the survivor, it was too delicate and cumbersome in the wild greenery on the island. She shed it's creamy fabric, instead, wrapping Theseus's cloak around herself and belting it. It was her tunic now, and hung only just past her knees, perfect for exploring the island. It was dusk by the time she found the spring, and she washed the salt and dirt from her face, hands and feet, and took long draughts of water that calmed her thirst, before going to a tree she had seen in her path near the shore. She wasn't hungry yet, but noted a fig tree, and mentally marked it for tomorrow's sustenance. The tree she went back to was large, with white bark, wide branches, and a thick base. She pulled herself up into it, and found a spot some ten feet up where the branches cupped around a niche, just her size. She curled up there, pulling her legs and arms into the warmth of her tunic. She had a good view of the sea from her spot, and watched the moon rise over the water. It was hours before she finally fell asleep.

"Maiden fair, why are you in a tree?" A voice startled Ariadne awake, and she sat up in her perch, unaware of where the voice was coming from, but certain that morning had come at last.

"Down here." It said in a pleasant tenor, pulling her gaze down on a youth with curling black hair. He had laughing light blue eyes and kind features, neither of which made Ariadne less suspicious. "I didn't realize there was anyone else on the island." She said curtly, "you don't _live_ here, do you?" She straightened out her tunic and smoothed her hair.

"No," he laughed, "I don't live here. I mean, this is my island, but I don't keep residence here more often than any other of my islands."

Ariadne eyed what appeared to be a crown of leaves and vines on his head, wondering if he was mad, and thought carefully. "You are a prince of this area, then. My apologies for being here without your permission. You have a ship here, then?"

"Not your standard vessel, but yes."

Was he marooned like she, and mad from loneliness and solitude? His tunic seemed to be in good condition, and of a fine material, maybe he actually was a prince and had a ship.

"I may have to beg transport from you, my friends left me here yesterday afternoon, and I do not doubt they have left me for good."

He seemed genuinely surprised, "Friends who leave one of theirs abandoned on an island are no true friends, fair one, especially to one so fair as you. I might question their sanity, in fact."

"I understand it no better than you, sir."

"Come down, then, and I will see you are fed and cared for by my attendants. And safe travels I guarantee you, but- you have name and a destination?"

"Ariel," Ariadne lied easily, still mistrustful," and my ship was on it's was to Athens." Ariadne hoped she could find some kind family of high birth to take her in, but until then she wanted to remain incognito. The stranger nodded, smiling, and replied, "Dionysus."

"Like the god?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so." He chuckled, offering her his hand.

Ariadne lowered herself down from her tree, and as he lifted her to the ground, she realized that even for her tallish stature, he towered over her from what she guessed was at least six and a half feet.

Their journey to the other side of the island was uneventful, Dionysus spoke of the different islands, their various attributes, and the different varieties of plants and vines found on each, particularly grape had a clear, rich voice that was so strikingly different from Theseus's husky bass. She nodded and spoke when it was appropriate, and was cautious not to use overly elegant speech that would betray her as a lady of high birth.

When they reached the opposite shoreline, Ariadne found that her companion had not been lying when she asked if he was a prince, for a massive crimson pavilion had been set up on the beach, with various maids in attendance. They appeared to be setting up a banquet on tapestries laid out on the white sand. They were exotic, with wild hair and scandalously scant clothing. Pipers and harpists on the sidelines were already producing a disordered, yet surprisingly non-cacophonic weaving of melodies and harmonies. Dionysus sent Ariadne off to wash up for the meal with two of the wild maidens, who pulled her into the pavilion, where thick curtains divided up the space into smaller rooms for different purposes.

Laughing and joking amongst themselves, the girls poured out a steamy bath into a copper tub in one corner of the tent behind a folding screen, and stripped the hesitant Ariadne of her blue tunic, which she was surprisingly sad to see go. It was the last gift from Theseus, and she wondered why she was so pained to part from it. She was stronger than that, wasn't she? One moment she was shivering beside the tub, then next she had been put into it, and already hands were scrubbing the dirt from her skin, massaging the grease for her hair, and pouring fresh scented oils into the bathwater. The warm water soothed her aches of body and of soul. Soon she was clean, more than she had been in the cramped quarters on the other ship. She realized the last time she had felt so fresh was the feast before Theseus and his companions had been sent into the labyrinth.

Ariadne was pulled from the water, and dried with clean cotton sheets, the girl Seya brushed out her hair, while Phylla made her step into a tunic, pulled it up and pinned it with iron pins, carved to look like thorns and leaves. The material of the tunic wasn't translucent like Phylla's was, but it had a semi-translucent quality to it that made Ariadne question of what material it was made.

"Why, silk!" Seya said, weaving tiny white flowers into ariadne's hair.

"I've never heard of it before."

"It's the only thing to wear! Everything else is scratchy, isn't it? It's like wearing the petals of flowers, although nothing really compares to only wearing actual flowers," she stated matter-of-fact, "Silk comes from the thread of tiny worms that are farmed in the far, far East." Ariadne tried to imagine earthworms creating something so fine, but could only picture spiders spinning gossamer and feeding it into the looms of weavers.

After she had been doused with scented rosewater, the girls ushered Ariadne out of the pavilion to where the morning meal had been set out. Dionysus grinned at her approach, and helped her down onto the tapestry beside him. "I hope my wild ones behaved themselves." He said, and stroked what Ariadne suddenly realized was not a golden cushion beside them on the tapestry, but a lion, wearing a garland of grapevines, licking its paw thoughtfully.

"You have most strange arraignments to visit to a small and unimportant island." She said, accepting a goblet of red wine and a piece of bread with olives.

"No island is truly unimportant, and after all, I did find you, so the effort was worth it, I think."

"I wonder, how inconvenient will it be for you to take me to Corcyra? I could find passage at a port which is more on your route to...?"

"No, Corcyra is perfectly fine, I have no specific destination. It should be a week's journey, if the weather continues fair and the wind holds well."

"Indeed, thank you again for your assistance, I am most indebted to you."

"Maiden Ariel, I confess I am curious, what is your story?" He questioned seriously, and Ariadne wondered if she shouldn't have just told him the truth. The truth made her vulnerable, and the last time she had trusted a man he had left her to perish.

"I am the daughter of a merchant, my father was lost at sea for months, but I received word from him that his ship finally made port, and he is at Corcyra. I took passage with another merchant ship, but soon after we set out they took my coin and when we stopped for fresh water, they left me here."

"Fools be they, to leave a maiden as fair as you."

They continued to sup, consuming fruit and nuts, bread, cheese and more wine than Ariadne was used to drinking. Ariadne felt her alertness slipping, and shook herself out of it, and looking around had a sudden realization that there was no ship anchored in the bay or beached on the shore. She asked her companion, and he laughed, "you are very sharp, though maybe more smart than intelligent. You look for what is missing, but do not see what is already before your eyes."

She was perplexed by his statement. He stood and offered his hand to Ariadne, who felt more than a little insulted, and rose by herself. He shrugged, and walked towards the edge of the water until it lapped his feet. Ariadne watched from a few steps behind.

A wind picked up, slowly at first, then more strongly. The water churned, and some hundred yards out, a ship rose out of the water in a tangle of seaweed, gushing seawater, and what appeared to be grapevines. Dolphins, whole schools of them, circled the ship in leaps and clucking laughter. Out of a cabin on the ship, men came out, and Ariadne saw that from the waist down, they had the bodies of goats. This was not mortal buisness.

"Oh dear." Ariadne murmured. She had been foolish, and questioned, in a voice maybe higher pitched than usual, "when I said, like the god Dionysus, and you said yes, you meant...you actually are the god Dionysus."

"You're not wrong." He took a drink from the goblet still in his hand.

"I'm so sorry, I don't need passage, I can go back to the other side of the island, and wait for another ship to come by." She said, dropping her head with respect.

"Nonsense, what kind of benefactor would I be to abandon one such as yourself to the wild, even if my island is fine and fertile. I'll protect you, Ariadne, I am not a cruel god."

"Thank you, I will offer you a new lamb every year this day for the rest of my days...I- I didn't... I told you... my name was... Ariel."

The smiling man took her hand and lifted her chin to look her in the eyes. "Ariadne, I won't lie to you, but you mustn't lie to me anymore, agreed?"

"Yes?" She replied, looking at features she now recognized from statues at her family's temple, and wondered how dull in the senses she could be.

"Then I will tell you, I you are not here at the cruel hand of Theseus. I came to him one night on the voyage from Crete, and I told him the location of an island where he would stop for water and leave you."

He had known. Theseus had known, had planned to leave her, had lied to her face, handed her the cloak and sent her on her way, knowing full well he would never seen her again. He has promised, promised her they would marry, live their lives together, have children...

"Why did you tell him to do that?" Ariadne choked, wrapping her spare arm around herself, trying to keep in her strength that was seeping away all too quickly.

"Ariadne," Dionysus said in a quiet, gentle voice that made her look him in his eyes. Green, she noted. "You couldn't be mistaken for anyone but yourself, a true princess with grace and charm and wit. Famous for her beauty. So when I was curious and saw you for myself, I knew you couldn't remain with Theseus as his prize, spoils of a clever escape, booty stolen from a foreign land. His intentions were not pure, he did not love you."

"What did that mean to you?" Ariadne guessed he was right, but had been the victim of ulterior motives by the hands of her family frequently enough to know when she was getting only part of an answer.

"Well I rather like you," he said, looking down at her with a new softness in his eyes "and when it comes down to it, maybe that was the prevalent motivation to my action, but my personal selfishness of wanting you with me instead of him doesn't negate the fact that you would have been sad and lonely with Theseus. He would have taken advantage of you. But, it really took very little persuasion to have him leave you."

Ariadne pulled her hand away. "I really don't know how you expect me to react to this. It seems a little unfair for me to have no say in it, but I suppose, and no offense, you are a god, you just mess with the business of mortals whenever your heart desires. For all I know I'm just a whim, a mildly interesting mortal. A passing fancy. You might be the one to leave me on the next island," Ariadne said carefully, hoping she could play the game right, and make it to Corcyra like her initial plan, "I am really not the most desirable mortal companion, either. I am not particularly talented at musical instruments, I am not skilled at dancing, and quite frankly, a woman of nineteen is hardly young; in fact, I am practically an old maid." She finished her argument decisively.

Dionysus chuckled, "You're not completely wrong, but compared to an ageless god, you are a veritable spring chicken. I don't choose my mortal companions by their lack of brains. Beauty and wit and skill are an admirable mixture. I'm sorry, you really don't have much of a choice."

"Maybe you want me to sympathize with you, I suppose you didn't have a choice to be the immature, selfish God of drunkenly ruining lives." The fatigue of having slept in a tree had caught up with her, and she had become less prudent in her discussion with all-powerful beings. Thankfully the comments didn't injure his pride too much, but he grew several inches larger in overall size, and Ariadne guessed it was a warning show of divine power. It made her wonder how large he could become.

"You have a quick wit and a sharp tongue, but know that you shouldn't push me too far. I am not cruel, but I can play the part of cruelty if you make me."

Ariadne thought this was still very selfish and meddlesome, but held her tongue.

"I have some vineyards on a nearby island that I want to visit, we will spend the night here and leave by dawn tomorrow." Dionysus changed the subject, slightly uncomfortable at the less than pleasant turn that the conversation had taken.

"And if I am to stay with your party, what must I do?" Ariadne refused to put herself entirely into a position of dependency on this immortal being.

"What are you good at?"

"I can embroider cloth decently. I can't play an instrument but I can sing, a little. I can paint murals. I can write and read."

"I can find some small tasks for you if you want to remain busy."

The god put her under the direction of a satyr, and left to tend some vines on the island somewhere. Ariadne felt more constricted since first arriving at the camp, and even though she was on the same beach with the same maids from this morning, everything seemed more threatening and the divine, supernatural power seemed more tangible. The satyr set her to work with large wine jars, clay, and a stylus, showing her how to make a seal. She identified and dated the jars, moulded the clay over the sealed brim, and carved the information into the soft clay to dry. When it was stored, merchants and wine sellers would know when the best time to drink the wine would be, and from what vineyard the wine was made. She wondered at the notion of a god making a profit on wine, and the very idea of common people in Athens drinking wine created by the hand of a god. It seemed almost common.

She was pleased to be doing something with her hands, and the day passed by quickly. Ariadne wondered how bad a life traveling with a god could be, certainly she would be fed and housed for her work. By the time the sun was setting, driftwood had been collected into a massive pile, and the maids soon lit it from a brazier. Another feast was laid out on the sand, all around the massive fire, and the pipers and harpists were at it again, along with the tambourines a handful of the girls were using to keep time. The others just danced around the flames, as the sun dropped below the horizon. Ariadne had stopped her work for the day to partake in the feast. Ariadne filled herself on roast boar and pheasant, olives and figs, washing everything down with long draughts of sweet pink wine. She smiled, swaying with the music as she sat, until Seya pulled her up from her spot in the sand to join the dance.

It was chaotic and wonderful, the girls wove in and out, sometimes holding hands, sometimes stealing ribbons from each other's hair, but always kicking up sand and shouting with laughter. The music, as if by some miracle, lulled, and Ariadne saw that Dionysus had found a spot by the fire to feast while she had been occupied dancing. He called to her between drinks, "Grace us with your voice, sweet Ariadne."

She blushed involuntarily, and made some kind of excuse up before the girls cajolingly forced her to sit by a harpist with blond, shaggy hair. He played a handful of chords, and then plucked out a familiar melody, one her nurse had sung to her when she was a babe. Ariadne smiled at the familiarity, and she sang it how she remembered. It had been comforting when she was little, but it was haunting now, thrilling. Ariadne sang out a verse, and the maids joined in for the second verse a little faster, a little wilder. Ariadne was pulled up into a dance again, dizzy and maybe a little inebriated from the earlier sweet wine, but danced to her nurse's lullaby, if it could even be recognized as such now. It was wild, chaotic, daring. Everyone started dancing, even the harpists and pipers and Dionysus, too, who had consumed enough wine for at least five men at this point, but seemed steady and confident enough on his feet, although Ariadne really couldn't tell, since her own vision wasn't completely clear. The flames danced and they danced and she was mildly certain at least half the group had shed their already few clothes to the ground, and were whooping like wild animals. The lion was darting around too, she thought. Or maybe she dreamed it. Maybe she dreamed the intertwining circles of people, dancing with one partner, then the next, and the next. Maybe she dreamed she collided with Dionysus, and he held her hands, and then her face. Maybe he kissed her on the mouth under a full harvest moon, or maybe that was a dream.

Whatever had been dream or reality the night before, this was the reality in the morning: Ariadne woke to harsh sunlight beating on her closed eyelids, clear sign that she had drunk quite a bit too much the previous night. She scrunched her eyes more tightly, realizing the night had also gifted a headache to her as well. Where was she? If she had still been outside, it would have been quite a bit colder. She opened one eye, and saw the Crimson fabric of the pavilion above her, and the walls of its largest antichamber all around. She was lying on a bed with Crimson drapery and the frame carved of wood to look like a large open seashell. At her feet was the lion, curled up into a snug ball of golden fur and mane, breathing in and out in a subdued purr. Beside her was a slumbering Dionysus.

"Olympus," she said cursed under her breath, and scrambled away from his prone body indignantly, grateful to find they both had clothes on from the previous night. Grateful, but still miffed, and very, very hungover, none the less. She adjusted the shoulder of her tunic and rolled her eyes, knowing her hair was probably more than messy. The figure beside her stirred, and spoke from under a pillow, "I suppose leaving at dawn option is out of the question by now?" It was at least midmorning by now.

"Do you have an explanation for this?" She queried, defensively, unused to sharing a bed with anyone since her nurse when she was a child.

"I didn't sully your honor, if that's what you are asking, I put you to bed like a good caretaker. Thought you'd be grateful not to be on the floor." He looked almost as hungover as she felt, black curls standing every which way, bloodshot eyes, and an expression of death on his face.

"I swear, who is the god of hangovers so I can offer up a turtle dove to get rid of this miserable headache?"

Dionysus rubbed his eyes and swung his legs to the ground, "Apollo would be the closest."

Ariadne noted many of the maids asleep on cushions strewn across the floor, and asked, "is it common for all of your folk to sleep in the same room?"

"Only when the festivities are mild. If there is a full on orgy, I make them keep to outside my sleeping chamber."

Ariadne wondered how she ever thought she might enjoy this kind of living, "I see civilized behavior isn't the strong suit of this entourage."

"I never said it was," he said groggily, yet still managed a somewhat charming smile in her direction. She grimaced wryly and got up, avoiding the large wild cat who had curled itself up into an even tighter ball. The camp stirred slowly as the sun gained height in the sky, and after she had gotten a chance for a quick wash, the pavilion was struck and the camp was disassembled, and rowed over by oar to the anchored ship.

It was a neat, yet still otherworldly vessel, formed of olive tree driftwood with intricate scrolls and leaves carved into every niche possible. As the oars and sails were cloaked with and manned by charmed vines, no rowers were necessary, leaving more space on the vessel for storage of wine casks and a grape press where at least two maids were always on duty, stamping out the juices to a wild rhythm set by pipers. Dionysus brought Ariadne to a cabin adjourning his own, the second most luxurious to the god's own captain's cabin. It was small but lavish, with drapery and cushions of a pale cerulean blue. Where there wasn't silk, the polished wood of the cabin was carved with waves and whirlpool patterns. A small window with a pane of milky glass looked to the starboard side of the ship, where Ariadne could make out the shapes of the entourage of dolphins that navigated beside the vessel as constant traveling companions. Left alone in her cabin, Ariadne lay back in her new bed, gazing up at the low wood ceiling where the constellations of the night sky in summer were painted. She wondered at her situation, and the lack of control in her life that she had now. Her previous feelings of power over her own life had been a fabrication, pure illusion. If Dionysus had been correct, which she assumed, and Theseus had been not her liberator but her next captor in a long line, her previous feelings of independence had been false, she had been Theseus's captive bride. And now she was obliged to accompany this immortal being for only he knew how long. It all made her feel weak and directionless. She needed some kind of compass, a direction to pursue.

The next few days were not unpleasant for Ariadne, as she enjoyed this passage by ship more than the one before she came to Dionysus's island. The meals and music were superior, there was interesting work with which to help. The maids that accompanied Dionysus were wild and improper, as maenads were generally known to be, but she found their laughter and innuendo preferable to the crass and vulgarity of Theseus's crew. Seya devoted herself to providing Ariadne with clothing, meals, baths and all other tasks for which a handmaiden might be responsible, but teased and joked with and dared Ariadne to get into all kinds of mischief. One afternoon a flock of naiads surfaced beside the ship, and Seya, Ariadne and a few of the other maids jumped into the water, and rode Dolphins beside the ship, socializing with the seafolk. The naiads were friendly, but Ariadne couldn't understand the bubbling language they spoke. She contented herself by admiring their queer visage: pale green, nearly white skin, seaweed growing instead of hair, long webbed fingers, and fins in their necks. Their lower torsos were the bodies of sharks, which seemed misplaced to Ariadne, until one of the maenads went too far in joking with one of the naiads, and the naiad bared a mouth full of shark like teeth in a fierce grimace, causing a sudden quiet tension between the two groups. Ariadne felt Seya's hand on her arm in a warning movement. Dionysus, who had been watching the rendezvous from the deck, said a few words in their language that didn't seem bubbly at all to Ariadne, and the naiads scattered at the quiet threat. The girls dismounted the chortling dolphins, and climbed up the grapevines on the the ship once more. Ariadne felt aware of Dionysus's eyes on her, but turned to Seya instead, asking, "is it common for conflict to happen between naiads and your kind?"

"Poseidon and Dionysus are at peace with one another, but our kinds have opposing natures. The seafolk can become angry and tempestuous at small things, while maenads are more joking and willing to solve issues over a cask of fine wine. There can be small pesky skirmishes, but the naiads are fierce fighters, even in times of peace. It could have been violent, it was wise for Dionysus to send them away."

The maids laid their wet tunics out in the sun to dry, and listened to a faun play a lullaby on panpipes while they all stretched out in the sun on the deck for a nap.

Dionysus joined them, sitting beside Ariadne, and spoke with her about the geography of the island they were approaching, where he had a vineyard. It was pleasant, and Ariadne realized that he meant well, even if he wasn't giving her the total freedom she had initially wanted, he still wanted her to feel free and at ease in his presence. He asked about her childhood and her home, and she spoke of the Minotaur, and the labyrinth.

"I used to play in it as a child. The Minotaur was never malicious to me, but kept away whenever I explored the depths of the labyrinth. Perhaps he recognized me as his half-sister. Either way, I felt more at home in the labyrinth with my thread than in the court with my family and all the politics of Crete."

"I can picture a tiny Ariadne, the small Mistress of the Labyrinth."

"I think I liked being there because it made more sense to me than the whims of my family. You can solve a labyrinth, however complex, but a mad man has a maze of a mind that is ever-changing and unsolvable, prone to inconsistency and cruelty."

"I'm sorry, Ariadne, you were a princess in position, but destitute for the thing that all men require." He said solemnly, his hand on hers.

Ariadne gazed back, on the cusp of being lost in his clear blue eyes, but brought herself out of it decisively, questioning, "and what do all men require?"

"A friend."

They arrived at the destination the following day, and although Ariadne enjoyed her small cabin, she appreciated reaching shore on one of the rowboats, and feeling pink sand between her toes. The air smelled wonderfully, with the salty sea air converging with the smell of a citrus grove higher up on a ridge. Ariadne and the maids hiked up the hill to pick fresh oranges and lemons and grapefruit for a midday snack. The entourage stopped in the sun-drenched grove to gorge on the flesh of the fruit. Ariadne had never tasted something so delectable as the pale pink juice of her grapefruit, and consumed the sweet tartness of it with savor, like she was drinking sunshine.

The group made their way over the rocky terrain to the other side of a hilly outcrop, where a sprawling vineyard spread across the green valley. Ariadne walked beside the loping lion, and stroked it, admiring the stone walls and carefully constructed trellises about which the vines wove and thrived. Dionysus was quiet, but seemed proud of his hard work, so Ariadne mentioned to Seya that she had never seen a vineyard so fine, and the god overheard, and later made a point of promising Ariadne a complete tour once he had attended to some business.

The complex of buildings were a mixture of storage, presses, administration and other farm related units, since this particular island was bountiful in many ways beyond just grapes. There were goats and pigs and chickens, a few horses and an impressive village of beehives, abuzz with movement. Maenads, fauns and satyrs ran the farm when Dionysus was away, and the whole estate evoked feelings of contentment and life. A small river threaded its way through the valley and by a small hill where was raised was raised a half-palace, half-villa, to which Ariadne and her attendants made there way.

It was a sunny, open structure, with many windows and several courtyards in the center that opened to the sky, one which was a kitchen garden, one that was for large gatherings, with a fountain and a wide stone pit for a bonfire. Another courtyard had a bathing pool surrounded by bushes of aromatic flowers. Ariadne explored the whole villa, and could not find a single fault with it. Seya and Phylla found her a sleeping chamber, a fresh tunic of pale, peach colors silk, and oils with which to bath. In the bathing courtyard she stripped and swam in the water, pleased to find the pool fed by a fresh spring up from the earth. The pool was paved with tiny tiles, forming ornate mosaic patterns that shimmered and waved under the lens of the water. The water was hardly cool, since the afternoon sun had heated it from above, and Ariadne let her mind and body relax, glad to have the salt washed from her skin.

Once she was clean, she dried in the sun, and donned the silk, binding the folds of deliciously soft fabric to her slim frame with silver thread. She wore her hair loose, and it was dry by the time Dionysus collected her to show her the vineyard. He seemed in his element here, almost as much as he was while drinking wine around a bonfire. His steps were eager, and he held Ariadne's hand as they wove through isles of grapevines, tasting a grape from different varieties every few rows. She was glad they had not gone to Corcyra first. Well, she did want to go there, for she still wanted her independence, but was glad she hadn't missed the opportunity to see something which could truthfully be called a garden of the gods.

Dionysus joked and laughed with her along the tour, and when the were finished, parted with him leaning down and kissing her on the brow. She flustered and smiled shyly and muttered some excuse about finding the lion, before going off. She was grateful for the time he spent with her, but felt confused and disoriented at the notion of a god wanting to be friendship with a mere mortal.

The feast was going to be an exceptionally large affair, Ariadne realized. All of Dionysus's attendants who tended the vineyard and farm while the god was absent were overjoyed at welcoming this master back, and it seemed they planned to celebrate it most exuberantly. The central large courtyard was decked with wreaths of vines and flowers, and generously spread with cushions and couches beside low tables. Small braziers sizzled with roasting mushroom and fish fillets, and at the central bonfire, a massive boar with a pomegranate in it's mouth was being rotated on a spike to roast evenly on all sides by a small, hungry looking faun. Torches lit the darkening courtyard, as the sun had just set, and at least half a dozen satyrs were already immensely drunk and unsuccessfully flirting with maenads. Musicians both in the courtyard and on the tiles roof surrounding it played more wild music. Ariadne was greeted at the door with a ruckus welcomes and hugs from all the crew and many satyrs and maenads she didn't even recognize, who took the opportunity to stroke her hair and pinch her cheeks with admiration. Someone she realized was a dryad with tree bark skin and willow-leaf hair also embraced her, and placed a crown of roses on her dark wavy locks of hair. She felt more than a little overwhelmed by the hugging, and intentionally avoided the drunk satyrs lest they attempt to feel her up.

Ariadne also stayed away from the sweet and deceptively strong pink wine from the last bonfire, and sampled a rich red instead, drinking from it more lightly, thinking of her headache from the last time. The night progressed with excessive eating, and Ariadne feasted on a slice of the rich greasy boar, figs and grapes, a roast dormouse, stuffed olives, flatbread and olive oil, lamb, mushroom, and sweet, sweet honey. The revelers ate, then danced, then sang. Some attempted to do two at a time. One faun tried to do all three and ended up choking on an olive pit in the middle of a verse and three maenads proceeded to punch it out of him.

A group of maenads performed an alluring dance with hip swaying and hand movements together, and then tried to teach it to Ariadne who butchered it rather badly, but everyone clapped anyway, and half of them weren't just trying to be polite, they actually though that she had done it well, only they were a little too inebriated to see quite right. Dionysus made an entrance, and said a blessing over he group, only, most of the guests weren't paying attention, but that was the nature of the festivities, and he didn't seem to mind. Dionysus bade Ariadne to sit beside him on a low couch bed, and the conversed very little, because of the noise. Ariadne had enjoyed the previous bonfire a little more than this one, perhaps because there were fewer people, and perhaps because she had been more drunk. Either way, she danced less this time, and instead watched the maenads and satyrs dance and fall into the fountain, and then dance, splashing in the fountain. Tunics were shed, and strewn across the courtyard, and Ariadne blushed to see a few satyr kissing a few maenads rather more passionately than respectfully. Dionysus, sensing her displeasure, said, or rather had to shout over the music and singing, "I quite enjoyed your voice when you sang at the beach, although I never got a chance to tell you."

His eyes were doing that mesmerizing contact with her own which captured Ariadne's attention quite completely. He continued, "I wonder if I might receive an encore- though maybe in a quieter place."

Ariadne nodded, and followed him as they exited the courtyard, and she could finally hear him speak at a normal volume. He said, "something tells me you enjoy smaller social gathering much better than large ones."

"You're not wrong." She shrugged and laughed a little, and realized they had arrived at the other courtyard, with the bathing pool. They sat down beside it, unlaced their sandals, and dipped their feet into the cool water, relishing the relative quiet, although they could still hear the music and singing and laughter from the courtyard's open roof.

"And what would you like to hear?" Ariadne asked, breaking the silence, but kept her eyes on the moonlight playing off of the water.

"Do you know _the shepherd and the moon?"_

She nodded, and sang:

" _Selena of the fairest face,_

 _Tread her path across the night,_

 _Mistress of the stars above_

 _Guiding all below with light."_

She sang all eight verses, narrating the story of how Selena, the goddess of the moon, fell in love with a shepherd who slept while with his flocks grazed at night. She sang of how Selena wanted to marry the youth, but didn't wish to make the same mistake that her sister made. Aurora, the goddess of dawn, fell in love with a mortal king and asked Zeus for immortality for her lover, but forgot about eternal youth. The king grew old and shriveled up and unhappy, and Selena wanted her shepherd to be young and happy. She went to Zeus and asked for eternal sleep for her shepherd, so he remained young and she could be with him in his dreams for eternity.

 _"Though in day they never met_

 _They loved in an ethereal place_

 _The shepherd dreaming fondly of_

 _Selena of the fairest face."_

Her last notes echoed in the small courtyard, leaving a gentle silence that neither of the two felt obliged to break, but rather sat side by side, appreciating the smell of flowers around to pool, and the feel of the water, and the light of the moon above them.

Ariadne admired it as it hung above them, waning, but by no means dim.

"Was Selena justified in giving him eternal sleep?" She wondered out loud, half to the man beside her, half as a rhetorical question, "I mean, she didn't ever truly meet him, he was asleep, what if he wanted to choose his own path in life? Does being immortal give one the right to make those kind of decisions for mortals?"

"Selena is a goddess, I think she would know what would be better for him than he himself would. He was happy to be dreaming, the song said that he was smiling in his sleep. Imagine living in dream world for eternity, where troubles do not weigh you down."

"But what of freedom to choose what you want from life? What of carving your own path in the real world, meeting real people, finding a purpose in life?" Ariadne challenged, but admitted, "the song is lovely, but there is more life, more beauty and more potential in the real world."

"Potential for a princess, maybe. But shepherds have a harder life, and many live and die on the mountains on which they were born. That is there only life and purpose. Droughts, floods, famine, and beasts are just a handful of the troubles which they face day to day. Would you deny a shepherd the chance for a happy eternity, just for your personal desire for a purpose?"

"Well, no... But I would give him the opportunity to see both options and to choose."

"You have experienced heartache, Ariadne, and yet you have a generous heart, still. Mortals see a sliver of existence, blink, and you are gone. When an immortal sees something good in a human, it is sweet but bitter. Sweet because it is so rare, bitter, because it fades so quickly. It does not give the gods pleasure to watch humans pass on to the underworld, we are not cruel. And if I were you, I would not blame Selena for her desire to make the shepherd immortal. She saw something good and wanted to preserve it."

Dionysus's hand rose and found the side of her face, his thumb brushing her lip, light as a feather. Ariadne was about to pull back, but made the mistake of peering a little too deeply into his eyes, until she had fallen into their clear blue depths. "The song was beautiful." He breathed, and his mouth found hers. It was unhurried, and tasted of September and sweet wine, of orange and lemon.

Ariadne closed her eyes, and pulled away with a shake of her head, "I -I can't give you what you want."

"How can you? you don't know what I want." He said, relenting to her pulling away from his touch, but still remaining close, his fingers decisively entwined with her own.

"You want me to be like your maenads, wild and provocative and free from inhibition, but that is not who I am."

"I don't want you like a maenads, but I do want you."

"You want...me." Ariadne was profoundly confused.

"From the first day I saw you, I have. Not on the island, but before. When you were in the court of your father, and I was disguised as a visiting lord, I saw a loveliness to you, to your soul, that I desired greatly. I came to Theseus, and told him where to leave you."

"You said that before, I thought...I thought I was just some courtier you wanted, the newest member of your entourage."

"Maybe I wanted you that way, before. Did you know, all the maenads are like you? Once human princesses, they tasted pan's wine and fell in lust with it, and with the wild. They were broken, but found a greater calling, with me. I though that might be your path, too. Until I met you and knew it wasn't going to happen, you have a kinder soul, broken in spirit, perhaps, but not in character. You are too strong to be a maenad. Ariadne, I want you to be more. I want only the best for you, I want you to be my wife."

Ariadne felt sick, and pulled back farther, tears stinging her eyes at how cruel and confusing the world was, "you want a mortal wife, who will grow old, and die, while you linger on. Would you find a new one once I am gone? Or would you not wait for my death, but cast me off in my old age"

"No, I want a living and breathing wife, a vivid, intelligent, beautiful wife. An immortal wife. Ariadne, I want you make you immortal and eternally youthful. I see what is inside of you, and I choose it."

They stood now, beside the pool, the cold fabric of ariadne's tunic clinging damply to her legs, arms crossed and cold tears staining her cheeks. Dionysus stood openly before her, serious, honest, but tall and unmovable.

Ariadne wanted to rage at the injustice, to scream or kick or bite her way to freedom, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that would actually work; She was idealistic in nature, but knew when the battle was not worth the war.

"Do you have a generous heart?" She asked, so quietly he almost missed it, before she continued, "would you let me choose? Or must I be your wife whether or not I want to be?" Her eyes were wide, but she was looking away from him, gazing over his shoulder coldly.

"Ariadne," he said, stepping forward and lifting her chin for him to wipe away the tears, "this wasn't supposed to cause you pain. That was the last thing on my mind, when I fell in love with you, you know that, right?" Her eyes were looking over his shoulder, and he felt acutely aware of the wall between them now.

"Do you have a generous heart?" She repeated.

"I - yes, within reason."

"Then let me choose. I choose-"

"I said within reason. Stay with me."

"What?"

"Remain with me for another moon. If the idea of spending an eternity with me is as distasteful then as it seems to be for you now, then I will take you to wherever you wish to go, and see you find a safe home."

It seemed an impossible solution, and Ariadne almost wouldn't believe it. A girl who had grown up in a labyrinth knew that there were as many twists to a man's words as there were to a maze's path.

"Swear it."

"I swear it." He replied, his eyes smiling at her acquiescence,

"On the river Styx." Ariadne returned quickly, triumphantly, expecting him to acquiesce. Such a vow on the river of the damned would hold both men and gods accountable to their word. Dionysus understood the seriousness of her request, the laughter gone once more from his expression.

"I swear to you, Ariadne, daughter of Minos, that if by next moon you do not love me and fate has placed you in the arms of another, I will help you reach that purpose in whatever way I can, this I swear on the river Styx. But this I also swear on the river Styx: if, by next moon, you have even the smallest ember of affection for me, and fate dictates our purposes continue entwined, there is no reason by Hades or Olympus that you will not be mine nor I yours." The words had been said, it was sealed.

Ariadne's heart thudded in her throat, the finality of his vow weighing on her chest. She had a month to make a decision for a lifetime, or for an eternity, depending on her choice. She was about to leave, but Dionysus had swooped in, a hand on the small of her back, his lips against her left temple in a goodnight kiss. He left her to wonder at the events.

Ariadne's mind raced, as she made her way back to her chambers and climbed into the large, soft bed; it would not let her sleep for some time, and when she did sleep as last she dreamed of the labyrinth, and a thread winding through women hunched over the thread, pulling it this way and that, and Ariadne couldn't tell whether they were trying to untangle it from or weave it through a tiny sprout of a vine that grew up through the cracks in the stone floor of the labyrinth.


	2. these pesky interfering gods

Late in the morning the maenads entered to room, and pulled back the curtains from the sunny windows to reveal Ariadne sprawled across her bed, sleeping. As the sun poured in and woke her , Ariadne protested at the volume of sunlight, rolling over and pulling with her the linen sheets over her head. Seya removed it from her grasp, and proceeded to prod and pull Ariadne up into a sitting position, tsk-ing, "You can't lay abed on a beautiful day like this, you do it injustice by not being awake to appreciate it."

Ariadne scowled at the awakening after her troubled sleep, and scowled further upon remembering why it what had caused the unrest to begin with, but allowed the maidens to direct her to the bathing pool, where they attempted to lather and rinse away her bitterness as well as the dirt from her skin. She felt better, or at least more fresh, after the wash and the fresh white linen tunic; but she still allowed the resentment towards Dionysus fester in her heart, knowing what would happen if she nurtured the affectionate feelings towards him. She did have a measure of gratitude, since the god had prevented an unfortunate union between her and Theseus. When she recalled the color of his eyes, she would be lying to say it wasn't her favorite shade of blue, or that his smiles directed towards her made her feel appreciated and understood.

She braided her hair back loosely, and after dining on grapes and bread for the first meal, went with Seya to the olive groves, ripe and ready. The benefit of having a god as the patron and master of your vineyard and farm was a constant harvest, something was always ripe and ready to be gathered. It took a full staff of fauns and maenads, satyrs and other wild folk to keep up with the bounty that hung thickly from the vines and branches of even one of Dionysus's many island estates.

Ariadne came to the grove and found that it was as much a harvest as a celebration. Several fauns were playing their pipes merrily, while maenads danced about from tree to tree, plucking the ripe olives with ease. The sunshine of approaching midday heated their skin, and the warm smells of summer permitted the air. Ariadne got to work with the other maidens, gathering the fruit into wide baskets and bringing them to a donkey-drawn carts that were scattered through the grove under the shade of taller trees. The buzz of cicadas mingled pleasantly with the chatter and laughter of the maidens, and the pipes of the fauns, and Ariadne found herself singing songs from her own childhood, unable to stay too bitter about her situation when it was so pleasant at the present moment. She hadn't been working for as long as her companions, but, truth be told, she was not familiar with physical labor, as she had been a princess. Before, if she had dropped a comb, a maid would have been there to pick it up, and the only solitude she had from the constant assistance was in her time away in the labyrinth. Now she was lifting heavy baskets of olives, and water jugs, and she was tired, and hot, but getting stronger. The company worked for a few hours more until just before midday when the heat was starting to become oppressive, so they set aside the baskets and let the donkeys graze, and climbed over the crest of a nearby hill. Before her spread out the cerulean sea, fresh and cool. They meandered down the other side of the hill through sea grasses onto the beach, pink with sand.

Some in their party had brought food for their midday break, so they ate their fill sitting in the cooling breezes from the sea, their feet in its salty waves. Ariadne and Seya waded into the water to cool, and Seya asked, "You were in such a mod this morning, I almost believed something unpleasant happened to you last night at the bonfire. Did one of the satyrs try to touch you? Tell me which one made you angry and I'll rip his beard off."

"No, it's not like that. It wasn't at the bonfire-"

"But something bad happened? Tell me!"

"I- nothing bad happened, I just was tired."

"Just tired." Seya pouted, arms crossed, "I see how it is. You don't want to confide in me because I'm beneath you and your royal blood."

"No! Seya, it's not like that." Ariadne pleaded, wishing the subject hadn't even come up.

"Then what is it like?" The other girl challenged, eyes flashing.

"If I tell you, if I tell anyone, I feel like it will make it happen."

"You need to tell me everything. What are you so afraid of happening?" Seya questioned, grasping Ariadne's hand in comfort, but persistent questioning.

"Dionysus, he wanted to- to-"

"Does he love you?" Seya asked, her eyes gleaming with sudden thrill, "does he want you?"

"I don't know what he wants- I don't know what he loves, I mean he said he wanted me to stay with him, to be his wife-" Ariadne flushed.

"That's wonderful, Ariadne! Why would you say something bad had happened? I was worried, I thought something dreadful was bothering you."

"But it is dreadful! I mean, objectively it would make any girl happy. I don't know how to feel, I don't know what to think."

"You are crazy. Be happy! Feel happy, and if you don't know what to think, think about the fact that you are going to be the wife of a god! Think that of all the girls who he has ever known, of all the maenad consorts he has had, only you will he make his wife."

Ariadne had never thought of it before, but she supposed that Dionysus had many lovers in the past, and many consorts, and that Seya might have been one of them. She felt too uncomfortable to ask.

"Seya I don't want to be his wife or consort, I think I don't want to be his anything. He said I had a choice, so I'm choosing to leave at the end of the moon, I can't be here if he expects more from me beyond gratitude for his help."

"I think you really are not right in the head. He gave you a choice? Ariadne, the gods don't bend to the wills of mankind, especially not a woman, even if she is a princess."

"He said that if I loved him by the end of the moon I wouldn't have a choice, and I would have to stay."

"Ariadne, if you loved him, and I am still having a difficult time thinking of why you wouldn't, then you would want to stay. Besides, where else would you go?"

"I think I have a destiny to do something important, Seya, I want the freedom to pursue that."

"Important? What is more important than marrying a god?"

"I don't know yet. I do know that once I find out, I will follow that destiny to the end of the world, and being married to Dionysus will limit that."

"What if it wouldn't? You want to follow your destiny, but what if you could do so more effectively with the help of an immortal, powerful being who can not only help you himself, but give you a glimpse of a greater world, with other, more powerful gods who might also be able to help you."

"Well, I hadn't thought of that. I don't know what will come at the end of this time, but I do have one request, that you keep this as a secret, I... Think it will be easier for him if I do not damage his pride further by letting everyone know I denied his request."

Seya agreed, but shook her head in a kind of disbelief at her friend, clearly disapproving Ariadne's choice of behavior, "If a powerful god wanted to marry me, I wouldn't keep it a secret. You have the oddest priorities of anyone I've ever known."

"Well I can't help it, it's my nature to find my own way."

"I guess that is understandable considering how you spent your childhood, mistress of the labyrinth!" Seya addressed Ariadne formally, curtsying into the water in a mockery of courtly etiquette. Ariadne laughed and splashed water at her, and the maenad retaliated with more splashes, until they stumbled back to the beach, as soaked as if they had been swimming, rather then wading in the shallows. The two girls dropped onto the sun-baked sand higher up on the beach, where warm sand dunes met tall sea grass, waving and whispering as it swayed in the breeze. On their backs, the two squinted up at the sky, watching clouds sail across the sky, enjoying the silent companionship which only the dearest of friends can appreciate fully. Ariadne closed her eyes and let the sun wash over her completely, filtering through her closed eyelids as a rosy pink, until the light was blocked by an unseen obstruction. "Seya," she pouted sleepily, but was cut off by Seya's own formal voice, saying "My lord!"

Ariadne opened her eyes to find Dionysus standing over them, smiling, "I didn't expect to see fair Lorelei on the beach this afternoon. Have you two sirens cooled in the water sufficiently?" Seya got up to await Dionysus's orders, as was appropriate for her position, while Ariadne remained on the ground, still sleepy.

"Yes, it...is quite refreshing." Ariadne spoke from the ground, propped up on her elbows. Dionysus seemed distracted, and didn't speak, which left Ariadne to wonder if he had taken offense at her reaction from the previous night, and had finally come to send her away. Her personal insecurity made her feel a little guilty for not receiving his attentions with more grace, and then wondered why he even want her in the first place. It took a moment more for her to blanch in realization and in self-consciousness upon realizing his gaze was on her own body, that her tunic was not completely dry, and that its white fabric clung to her revealingly.

If Dionysus noticed her blush, he had the grace to not point it out, but rather reached out a hand with a courteous "my lady". She accepted it, and he helped her up, his grasp firm and gentle all at once.

Ariadne crossed her arms over her chest, and hurriedly spoke, "have you made progress here on the island like you hoped?"

"The vineyards are thriving, and this harvest is one of the most bountiful yet, my only worry is that there isn't enough time in the day too keep up with the bounty. We should hope the fauns continue to rut with continued passion, to produce more helping hands. Yes, everything is in order. Indeed, that is the reason for my seeking you out here. I must move on to further business on other islands and as you are still under my care for another moon, it is necessary for you to join me."

"I see. What time are we to depart?"

"The vessel is in the harbor now, stocked with provisions, prepared to set sail with the changing tide."

"Is Seya to join us?"

The maenad looked hopeful, and Ariadne wished that her friend could be her hand maid for the voyage.

"Unfortunately, no. We are traveling lightly, this time, on a small sailboat with the two of us as the only crew."

Disappointment welled up in Ariadne, but she attempted to quell it and instead embraced Seya goodbye. She then realized that the two would likely never meet, if Ariadne's choice was ultimately negative. The maenad realized it also, because as they hugged, Seya whispered in ariadne's ear, "if not for love, then consider your choice for other reasons also. I will miss you this next moon, if you are to return, but I will miss you my whole life, otherwise." Ariadne nodded, and the two parted. Dionysus lead the way up the beach and around a rocky jetty of coastline, plentiful with tidal pools and beds of seaweed. Cresting a tall rock, Ariadne came to view a handsome sailboat anchored a few hundred yards out in the small harbor.

"The boat is called calypso," Dionysus said, and climbed to where the tall rock protruded over the water below, "though she be small, she is fierce, and sails fiercely. We shall reach port in no more than two or three days."

Ariadne wondered how they were to get to the boat, when the god leapt in a graceful swan dive into the waves, and emerged several yards out shaking the water from his hair like a shaggy hound. She watched him skeptically, arms folded, and he grinned at her expression.

"Not afraid of a little swim, are we?" She raised a single eyebrow in reply, and following after him. She leapt off the edge of the rock, and plunged feet first into the deep water. The depth made it much colder than the water had been by the beach, and she felt it sapping her strength. She shivered as she rose to the surface, wondering is she could make it to the boat, but hoping her coldness wouldn't be noticed by the god. She appreciated his care as a host for the comfort of a guest, but disliked the constant attention to her physical comfort, wishing something else could be the object of his attention for once. Either Dionysus had foreseen her need, or a dolphin had acted of its own accord, but the friendly porpoise appeared by her side, and helped her up. She broke through the surface with ease, noting that a whole school of Dolphins was present, and she was glad for the company. They all swam across the cerulean waters to the vessel, where Dionysus climbed aboard, and helped Ariadne up and over the side as well.

The boat was small, but well crafted. It had a single mast with a creamy white sail, with vines winding around its ropes and rigging. A set of hatches on the wooden surface of the deck which stored provisions, casks of wine, and all the necessary supplies for the journey. The vessel was painted with a mermaid on the prow to serve as masthead, and ornate shells and fish everywhere else. The door to single cabin at the stern of the sailboat was carved with sea-serpents, and the door latch was carved to be a tentacle of a kraken. Ariadne spent time marveling at the intricacy, until Dionysus urged her to dry herself, so as to not catch a cold. She rolled her eyes, but entered the cabin anyway, and found it to be snug and inviting. It also held a small chest from her room at the villa, with fresh linen and silk tunics, and she changed into a twilight-blue colored one, with tiny shell pins at the shoulders, and a corded belt to hold it together. Ariadne noted the single bed, hoping that one of the hatches held a hammock or pallet bed for her to sleep on, on the deck at night. The water was cold, but the air remained warm enough to sleep out under the stars, certainly.

They lifted anchor and set sail with the tide, and Ariadne spent the rest of the day listening to the sound of waves lapping against the boat, the cries of the gulls, and Dionysus's tales of the surround lands and peoples, lore, and as the sun set and the stars rose, the stories of the constellations. The first night, they ate dried fish and figs and olives with wine, and both Ariadne and Dionysus slept on pallets on the deck. Ariadne, because, "it was so lovely outside, it would be a shame not to sleep under the stars" and Dionysus because "what kind of man would sleep under a roof when a lady was sleeping outside". The second day turned a little stormy into the evening, and though calypso kept her pace through the churning waters, the steady rain prevented any notion of them sleeping outside that night. Throughout the day, Ariadne managed to avoid any awkwardness between them by avoiding being with the god for any great length of time, or if in his presence, making sure silence was filled with trivial conversation. This was difficult to begin with on such a small vessel, and grew to be impossible as the drizzling rain developed into a steady down pour, and then a veritable lighting and thunderstorm outside. Ariadne really couldn't find any excuse to stay outside, so after darting into the rainy weather for some last "fresh air" before turning in for the night, she had to return to the cabin like a pitiful wet cat. Dionysus let her in, thankfully choosing not to address her avoidance of him throughout the day.

"I may be immortal, but you are not, and you may catch your death if you stay in those wet clothes all night," Dionysus said, returning to the low desk where he sat, marking down some business in a set of scrolls. The cabin had a low ceiling, and was made up of a bed built into the port side wall, a bit of floor where the cabin door opened into, and a desk built into the starboard side. Milky glass windows on port, stern and starboard kept out water, but would have let in sunlight during the day. As dusk and thunderstorms had settled, however, neither water no light could enter the room, and a flickering oil lamp hanging over the desk served as the only illumination for the space. It swung to and fro with the waves, but as the water had become choppier, it's swinging became more active, changing the light in the room with every movement.

Ariadne knew the god was right, and though she felt some discomfort from having to change out of her rain soaked tunic in his presence, she was ultimately glad to have the saltwater washed from her skin. She recalled that it had been a few days since her last bath, and the salt had begun to itch. Glancing over her shoulder to check that Dionysus's back was still turned towards her, she found that his attention was still focused on marking his quill on the scrolls. Head still bent over his work, Dionysus spoke, "It seems like I haven't seen you much at all today, oddly enough."

She turned to the bed and grimaced at his comment, wondering how she though he wouldn't notice her avoidance of him throughout the day. "Indeed?" She replied, perhaps a note or two higher than the tone at which her voice usually spoke. She grimaced again, this time at her own betraying voice.

"One would think we'd spent the whole day together, being on such a small boat with no one else present, just the two of us for company," He said, thoughtfulness in his voice.

"I suppose I'm used to spending time by myself, wherever I go." She said vaguely, wringing the water droplets out of her hair.

"Well perhaps you might spare me a moment or two more each day? At least until the end of the month." He replied with a tone of nonchalance, his quill still scratching across the scroll, but Ariadne sensed the displeasure. She pulled her hair back, and braided it loosely to keep it out of the way. "I suppose I could make more of an effort to spend more time with you..."

"It would only be fair, considering our deal," Dionysus said diplomatically, "you can't decide whether or not you love me, if you don't know me, nor I you. And you can't know me without some sort of time spent together, to build an understanding between us."

"That makes perfect sense." Ariadne said lightly, lack of commitment too evident in her tone. She shed her tunic and it dropped to the floor, and she stepped out of it. Its absence sent goose prickles down her skin, and she shivered against the chilly air.

"I feel there are barriers to us creating this understanding, and some of them may be my own fault."

"I'm sure it is nothing, truly." Ariadne used the coverlet of the bed to dry herself.

"I think your reservations may be based, in part, on assumptions about my own character. I do have qualities consistent with immortal being, but though I have had many lovers in past ages, I do not make and break vows of marriage as easily as lord Zeus, and other divinities, who are as apt to stray. I am Patron of the bacchanalia, a complete with its drunken revelry and loose debauchery, but do not forget I am also patron of the vineyard, where life itself takes firm root. I take that aspect of my divine responsibility quite seriously."

"It does you credit, then." Ariadne replied uncertainly, searching through her chest for a clean cotton shift with difficulty, partially due to the rocking of the boat, and partially due to her trembling fingers. The sound of the waves crashing outside was the only sound in the cabin, until Dionysus spoke again.

"What I really mean to say, is this. Ariadne, mistress of the labyrinth, if we are married, I swear on the river Styx to never cast you aside, I will cherish and be solely devoted to you. Perhaps flighty passion first caused me to glance your way, but the vines of a deeper passion took ahold soon after, and seeing you now, I can see our futures entwined together."

Ariadne realized that the scratching sound from Dionysus' quill was the missing. Ariadne looked up into the window over the bed, where its glassy reflection displayed his figure standing behind, facing her. She breathed heavily, and held the shift up to her breast, but felt his hand ghosting her arm. She clenched her eyes shut for a moment, opened them, and turned around to face him.

"I don't see what you see," she said, gazing into his eyes, hoping that her honesty could be conveyed as completely as possible to him "and I am not ready to accept this perfect future that you have in mind as fate."

The light was dim, but she saw his desire-darkened eyes taking her in, and summoned more courage into her voice. Though her voice trembled once, she managed to breath out the words, "don't do this, please." His hand dropped from the side of her face, and he moved back a fraction, if such a thing were possible in so close a space. He still seemed to tower over her, his presence overwhelming her senses.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, Ariadne, but I could never break my promise by taking you against your will," He said so quietly, it was barely above a whisper, "I cannot imagine a more exquisite pleasure than being with you this very moment, but I have lived hundred-millennia of seasons and more I will live a hundred-millennia more. I think I can be patient for another month. If you can be patient, too, I have a plan to help you see what I believe your fate truly is."

There was a new glimmer in his eye, and Ariadne's racing heart paced, especially as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "There is but one bed, and we must share it I think. I will respect you and your wishes. Will you trust me on this?" The god asked, and as Ariadne looked back at him, and across the past few days, she wondered if she had a choice, and if she did have a choice, how could she not say yes? So, in the smallest of voices, barely audible above the storm, she said replied, "Y-yes."

His piercing blue eyes maintained eye contact with her own, while he grasped the shift from her clenching hands. Anger welled in her eyes, as her brows furrowed and jaw clenched, but he gave the tiniest quirk of the eyebrow, a non-verbal trust me once more. She relented her grasp, and wrapped her arms across her breast, feeling the most vulnerable she had ever felt before. He smiled into her eyes warmly, and pulled clean the shift down over her head.

"Arms." He said.

"I'm not a child." She replied, but pushed her arms through the sides of the shift, and adjusted the sleeping garment on herself, anyway.

"Indeed not." Dionysus replied, shedding his own tunic for a pair of breeches, and asked, "turn down the light, if you would?" Ariadne stepped aside, and dimmed the wick of the oil lamp, leaving the cabin bathed in only the barest hint of light. Ariadne stumbled onto the bed, partially due to the lack of light, partially with the crash of a wave against the vessel, and Dionysus laughed, "Are you truly eager to sleep with me? I'm flattered." He positioned himself on the side closest the window, and adjusted the covers to leave a place for her.

"Its too dark for you to see, but I'm rolling my eyes."

Dionysus chuckled, and Ariadne crawled under the covers of linen, wool and furs beside him. As she settled, it became more and more apparent how very narrow the bed and that it would be difficult not to sleep flush against the god, much less keep a barrier of space between them. Regardless, she continued fidgeting and adjusting, until the lying Dionysus made a sarcastic comment about hoping to sleep at some point, before the sun rose. So, she lay down against him, and hoped for the best. Utterly aware of the presence beside her, and the awkwardness she felt lying flat on her back, looking at the dark ceiling, breaking the silence became a necessity.

"The boat will hold the night?" She asked, quietly, arms crossed and body still rigid in bed. "It would take a Titan-induced tsunami to tear calypso apart, I think" Dionysus replied, "and she is held together with divine powers. Don't worry about the storm, Poseidon holds no grudge against me, at this time, at least." He stretched out and relaxed against her, his elbows up, and fingers laced together behind his head casually. The rocking of the vessel pushed her into his side, and Ariadne thought to move away, but realized it would be a long night if she intended to pull away every time a rocking wave pushed them together. Dionysus, though not an object of her desire, was a friend at least. And as such, coldness on her part was unkind, so she rolled with her back against his side and relaxed under the weight of the coverings.

"Well, sleep well, then." She murmured into the darkness.

"And you, Ariadne."

The waves tossed the boat, but it's irregular churning movements developed a rhythm to her. Between it, and the steady breathing of Dionysus against her back, she drifted asleep.

She awoke to the pervading presence of Dionysus all around her. The breathing movements of his chest to her back was the first thing she noticed, and then the fact that his arms had circled her waist completely, and his nose was buried in her hair. At first she believed him to be asleep, until the irregularity of his breaths signaled his consciousness, and she felt a little too entangled for comfort.

"Do you mind?" She asked indignantly, prying herself from his grasp to sit up on the bed. There was a wonderful flow of light from the window, and Ariadne reached over the laying figure beside her to unlatch the hinged pane, letting in a wealth of morning light and fresh air.

"Olympus, I don't think I've woken up both sober and happy before in all my many years." A voice said, cheerfully.

"There's a first for everything, I suppose." Ariadne said, stretching, and then scooping her hair back into a loose chignon to keep it out of the way.

"I truly hope this isn't the last." He said quietly, looking up at her, and Ariadne scoffed at him, partially at his overly sentimental comment, partially to help herself ignore how wonderful he looked for having just woken up. Beauty, unconditional of circumstance, appeared to be just another benefit of divinity.

"The storm has broken, and I hear the cry of seagulls, which means land." She said, and pulled herself out of bed, despite Dionysus's hand pulling at her to stay in.

This time they had arrived on an island, populated with mortals. Dionysus, once he had finally been roused from bed, sailed the calypso into the cove of a small fishing town, arriving at the harbor at the same time as many fishermen, returning with the early morning's catch. Ariadne and Dionysus docked, and went to find Dionysus's merchant, walking the length of the pier. Ariadne almost felt inclined to marvel at the sheer normality of the folk who were unloading their flopping, writhing cargo into carts to be taken into market. The smell of fish was pungent, but the scales, glimmering in the morning sunlight reminded Ariadne of naiads she had seen out in the open ocean. She felt odd, comparing the last few weeks of gods and naiads and powers beyond explanation to the everyday struggle that these villagers fought, to strive to live from day to day. It was fine to live in a villa and drink wine, and feast on wild boar every night, but she felt a profound respect for the tough, storm-worn fishermen's wives who pushed carts of fish twice their size into the square for market. For the first time, Ariadne felt self conscious that her hands were so soft and unused to hard work, that her face was relatively pale and undamaged by the sun, that for all the struggles in her life, she still had clothes on her back, a place to sleep, and enough food to fill her and drink to quench her thirst.

They found Dionysus's merchant, and did business concerning wine and shipments until midday, by which time Ariadne was ready to move on from the dockside buildings and the permeating fish odor all around. There was a ship leaving harbor the following morning, and Dionysus said they would sail with it, on calypso, to their next destination, which meant that they would stay in town until that time.

That was fortunate for Ariadne, who was glad to be on shore for a night after spending three on the churning ocean. They wandered into the center of a village, listening to the growing sounds ahead; laughter, speaking, shouts and music filled the town's main plaza, in front of their temple. The crowd was gathered around two figures, a youth and maiden, dressed in fine white tunics, and garlands of flowers, and carried aloft on the shoulders of the crowd. They had just exited the temple, and soon a procession formed, with the couple at its head, surrounded by flutists and drummers and a harpist, and followed by a slew of family, friends, and well-wishers.

"Why, it's a wedding!" Dionysus stated, immensely pleased, "how fortunate for them, and for us! We shall have some diversion after all."

He and Ariadne trailed after the party of people, to the opposite edge of the town, out onto a grassy fields, surrounded by trees, where a whole feast had been set out. The people of the town were not particularly wealthy, so he spread of food was not as magnificent as some of Dionysus's own feasts had been, but Ariadne could see there was plenty of bread with olive oil, figs and dates, and even a roast hog, spinning on a spike over a bed of coals, an pear shoved into its jaws. The guests sauntered about, greeting each other, passing out wreaths of flowers and vines, food, and drink.

"At the temple, they were United in the sight of the gods, and here, they will be united in the sight of their own community," Dionysus explained, as they sat on blankets spread out, sampling the food and watching the festivities, "and what brings two families together better than a feast? Although, I must say, the wine is less than impressive."

"It isn't divine, surely. But it isn't horrible." She said, adjusting a wreath of white roses on her head. Dionysus' own wreath of ivy had slipped down over one eye, but he laughed it off, and protested when Ariadne tried to fix it for him.

"Well, it isn't everyday that a mortal's wedding is graced by a god. What do you think, Ariadne? Should I give them a godly gift?" He asked, sloshing the wine from side to side in his mug, looking at her expectantly.

"It would be a memorable event," She considered, "do what you will."

"Indeed."

He gave her a half smile and took a long drink from his mug, "delicious."

Ariadne looked into her own, and saw that the watered-down wine had been replaced by a much redder, richer, aromatic variety. She sipped it, and was immediately impressed.

The whole wedding picked up after that, and the wine was consumed with greater enthusiasm, although the parents of the bride and groom seemed greatly surprised at the sudden increase in quality of wine which filled the caskets. It flowed on and on, never seeming to run out, and the gathering became increasingly more jovial.

Day melted into twilight, and torches were lit all throughout the field.

The musicians tunes were bewitchingly merry, causing the crowd to call, out "the dance! It's time for the dance!"

The bride and her attendance rose, and gathered, along with a group of maidens from the feast.

"Go, join them," Dionysus urged Ariadne, "it's the maiden dance, every virgin must join!" Ariadne complied, laughing, partially due to the happy atmosphere, and partially, the sweet wine. She was welcomed into the gaggle of girls, who embraced her, and pulled her into the circle assembled in the center of the festivities. The bride was in the very center, and with the rhythm of the drum, the maidens surrounding her began to sing and sway and move with the music. The dance was easy to follow, and Ariadne found herself caught up in it, in the laughter. The girls broke hold of each others hands, but partnered two and two, spinning in place by their hands, then broke apart again. Some girls processed clockwise, some counterclockwise, until they were weaving in and out around the bride, faster and faster.

They were interrupted by a whole group of youths, who, bearing the groom on their shoulders, broke through the circle, and formed a tight circle of their own around the bride and groom. Their dancing was less graceful and willowy, more chaotic, as contrasting with the maiden's dance, as day is to night. Everyone was dancing now, in concentric circles around the newly weds, and Ariadne imagined what a lovely, mesmerizing dance it would look like from above, with rings of townsfolk holding hands, dancing, around a ring of twirling couples, around the weaving maidens, around the energetic chaos of young men, around the two guests of honor.

Shouts and laughter and music swelled in the air, and soon all pattern was lost, it was just the crowed, fighting to get a view of the center. Ariadne was confused, pushed towards the middle by the surrounding folk, until she saw what all the ruckus was about. The bride and groom had abandoned all guise of dancing, and were completely oblivious to the chaos and cheers around them, instead totally absorbed in kissing each other with fevered passion. The brides's veil had been thrown aside, and her previously ornately braided hair had been mussed with, beyond decency. Ariadne looked on in abject horror as the rest of the couples clothes were shed, and their union was consummated, out under the darkening sky.

Ariadne found her hand taken up by Dionysus, and guided out of the crowd, dodging enthusiastic wedding guests.

"Is that how people really marry here?" She said with disgust, "out in the open, in front of everybody?"

"That is the purpose of a wedding, to give the community the opportunity to witness the contract between two families. It isn't binding until the deed is done."

"I understand that the folk would want to be witness at the wedding, but the consummation? I think it's barbaric having to make love under the stars, in the sight of any number of people! It's disgusting, an utter breach of privacy."

"Perhaps kings in palaces are exempt from such duties, but in a small town, the townsfolk appreciate the security of being in each-other's business, involved in the lives of the people around them. When you live a hard life, there is little security to be had, and privacy is a luxury. Besides, the first act should be performed under the stars, so the gods can also have witness."

"I though you said they were witness at the blessing in the temple?" She challenged, accusingly.

"True, but gods are perverted. They feel the right to see the act, if they are obliged to bless the union." Dionysus allowed.

"Perhaps the gods don't need to be involved in a mortal's wedding. Perhaps the gods don't need to be involved in mortal business."

"Oh please, explain how mortals could have dealt with the age of the Titans' chaos, without the assistance of the gods?"

"Does a single act of self preservation that helped the gods as much as it helped mortal's give gods the right to any property or liberty or happiness belonging to mortals, originally?"

"I think the gratitude would be appreciated, yes. And what of the blessings that rain down from Olympus? I would fear to see what the earth would look like without our blessings."

"Free from minotaurs. And free from open-aired consummations of marriages, I think."

The two left the wedding feast, Ariadne sullenly walking in silence, until they found their way to an inn, where Dionysus got them lodging, and baths, since they had gone without them for so long. Ariadne was relieved to finally sink into the warm water of the copper tub, soaking away her displeasure, placated that Dionysus had arraigned for them to have separate chambers, though the rooms were side by side.

She basked in the warmth, submerged under the water, it's weight, and her own thoughts.

She wanted to sleep right there, only Dionysus entered her chamber quite suddenly, agitated.

"I think you are more opposed to the idea of marrying a god, than to me, personally." He stated.

"Do you quite mind? I'm bathing."

"No, I realized something. You're dislike of gods runs deeper then your experience of me." He challenged, standing before the foot of her tub, as she sunk into the water deeper, attempting to protect whatever decency she had left since Dionysus had plenty of opportunity to survey her bare figure in the close quarters of Calypso.

"You are quite rude, and I don't owe you a reply while you are in my chamber." She pulled her wet hair around herself like a veil.

"I saved you from the clutches of that vile Athenian Theseus, you can at least answer me this, when did your hatred of gods begin?"

"My mother was sane, once... Father made a mistake, one mistake, and earned the displeasure of the gods. My mother was made to fall in love with a bull, as punishment for father. Do you know how humiliating it is to have your queen mother lusting after base animals? She was torn in pieces, conceiving my half brother, and again, when she gave birth to him. His existence was cursed from the beginning. He could only be sustained on the flesh of humans, and the gods gave him the ravenous appetite of a monster. My father shouldn't have used the youths and maidens from conquered lands to feed the Minotaur, but what other choice did the gods give him? Kill the offspring of his own wife? It would only have driven her further into insanity. She loved the Minotaur more than her own daughter, because of the gods. So forgive me if my mistrust of you runs a little deeply."

"I...am sorry." Dionysus said finally, taken aback at the reply. Ariadne thought she saw pity in his eyes, and it filled her with distaste. He would never understand her. He could pity her, desire her, own her, but they could never be equals, person-to-person. She hated it.

"I made an oath, an unbreakable oath, to keep you by my side until the end of the moon, but as my nature fills you with so many bad memories, you must know I wish I could take it back." He said, and Ariadne could tell that he was being honest. "And I see now that you would never be happy with me."

"Not many would admit that, I think. You have a kind heart, for a god." Ariadne replied, sadly, solemnly.

"I still would like to help you. I want... I want only the best for you, and will do everything in my power to help you to find your path, if that is still your wish."

"Yes." Ariadne said, avoiding his eyes, drawing her knees up to her chin in the bath.

"Then tomorrow, we sail for Delphi."

 _Author's Note:_

So much drama and feelings, right? I think one more large chapter should finish this story. Follow, Favorite, Review! Reviews are the fertilizer for the creative mind of an author. I don't have a beta, I write in spurts of time, so there may be continuity issues, so apologies for errors that I didn't catch! Let me know if you loved it, hated it, or both, or (as I like to do) have a cast of actors in your mind for the imaginary movie which is this story.

Hugs

Pandorica


	3. that tangled family mystery

Ariadne tore pieces of bread from the loaf in her hand, eating from it thoughtfully, and occasionally, throwing bites out into the sky, where gulls would swoop down in a mess of flapping feathers, to snatch the bread up greedily. Her position at the prow of Calypso allowed a much-needed, refreshing breeze to cool her face as she finished off breakfast. The gulls' cries were mildly irritating, as well as their selfish, clamorous struggle to chase after the last bit of bread, but Ariadne preferred to be in solitude with the birds, then the alternative, which she couldn't trust herself to consider.

She thought back to the previous night. Ariadne's father had always been paranoid, disinclined to allow suitors to court his daughter, and because of this and her own reclusive nature, she hadn't the opportunity to turn down a suitor.

As sharp as the cut-off between she and Theseus had been, Ariadne was retrospectively grateful that he had snuck away while she was asleep. She felt almost glad that she didn't know Theseus' reaction to abandoning her at Dionysus's behest.

If he had been sad to see her go, she would have felt sad at their parting, to think of the future they would have had, gone forever.

Conversely, if he had been happy at leaving her so he could being free to go seek other princesses from other lands, she would have felt anger, disgust, and revulsion at the man she thought she had once loved.

Yes, Ariadne much preferred ignorance, in a breakup of romantic love.

This was why Ariadne's heart was in a turmoil never-before experienced by herself. To see Dionysus's face at her words the previous night, the deep depression she had cause in him, the finality of his speech, caused pain in Ariadne for which she was not prepared in the slightest. She hadn't expected to feel so unhappy.

Her family's cursed experience with the wrath of the gods had been a terrible, hideous string of events that Ariadne had spent long hours in the Labyrinth in solitude trying to forget. To have it stirred up in her consciousness once more was like experiencing the shame and anger and regret all over again, only this time, with the addition of Dionysus' disappointment.

There was something in his face, pity, heart-brokenness, or resignation at the situation, which filled Ariadne with regret. Regret that her family's divine drama had happened in the first place, because of the distress it caused, but particularly because of what it prevented at this moment: the union between herself and Dionysus. In another world, a world where Ariadne had only positive experiences with the gods, she imagined that they might be together. But she was stuck here, with this impossible situation: a kind, wonderful god who's love she would not, could not, reciprocate. She knew the two of them could never be in a relationship of equality, and therefore, mutual understanding.

Ariadne's mind raced across all of the could-have-beens, while the Calypso raced across the Mediterranean sea, towards Delphi.

It was only few days before they reached the mainland, but once they arrived, Ariadne was abundantly glad to be away from the uncomfortable silence which blanketed the Calypso. They took port in a quaint costal town, and Dionysus procured horses to take them inland, through farmland and wooded country. The smells of green grass and growing things comforted her senses, glad to finally be away from the vast plains of blue waves.

"We'll want to find mules to take us up Mount Parnassus, they are more sure-footed beasts than horses when it comes to hilly grounds." Dionysus said briefly, as they passed through a tall stone arch entrance to the main plaza. Ariadne glanced up as they went underneath, noticing the inscription carved into it, and a picture, along with it, depicting the stomach of a woman.

"Why Omphalos?" She wondered out loud, puzzling as to why someone would mark town entrances with depictions of someone's navel.

Her remark caused Dionysus to pull his reigns, slowing down his horse to match the steady pace of Ariadne's own steed, until they rode side-by-side.

Dionysus explained, "This is the midpoint of the Earth. Gaia's navel, or center, so to speak. There's a whole range of lore surrounding the Titan's epic struggle against the gods. It was actually long before I came into being, and the Olympians love to change the story and expand the truth, so even I don't know the full tale. But as I understand it, once Gaia lay down to rest, and human life was made, it began here, at her center."

"That makes sense, I don't see why the god's would want to change the truth about something so understandable." Ariadne replied.

"Well, the god's would like the mortal realm to believe that the struggle was won completely with triumph, while I am inclined to believe that it was much more of a challenge for Zeus, Poseidon and Hades to subdue their parents, aunts and uncles, the Titans. You see, there was one particularly close-call to the Titan's reclaiming of a victory. During the celebrations of victory on Olympus, Gaia gave one last effort and birthed one more son, a giant snake, Python. His purpose was to wreak havoc in the land, so that there was no place for either divinity or humanity to be born. What the Titan's really should have counted on, but fortunately did not, was Zeus's uncontrollable lustful gaze. Zeus always kept his eyes open, to look for some young, fresh maiden with whom to copulate. The Titan daughter Leto caught Zeus' eye during the Titan war, so when his wife Hera was distracted by the celebrations, Zeus snuck down to the girl, and impregnated her with twins, Apollo and Artemis. Of course, Python had eaten away at the land, so Leto had no place to give birth except a single lonely island called Delos, adrift in the Mediterranean, so young itself, that it had not even attached to the floor of the sea. Zeus, returning to Olympus after the adulterous tryst, noticed the destruction that Python had caused, and fought the giant serpent back and entrapped it in Gaia's center, from which it had emerged."

"I still don't understand why this would be kept a secret from general knowledge."

"At first it was Zeus' desire to keep Leto and her children from Hera's wrath, and also preserve the pride of the Olympian's total victory over the Titans. Once Hera did discover his unfaithfulness, she was also inclined to preserve her own dignity as the new Queen of Olympus, and avoided acknowledging that Zeus was as promiscuous as he truly is."

"And the snake? Didn't Apollo slay it?"

"Yes, that is the more commonly known piece of the story. Apollo sought revenge on the snake, for making his mother's delivery so difficult. And in eliminating the guard at Gaia's womb, he was able to access something of immense value, the source of life and knowledge itself."

"It amazes me how humanity has survived this long, with Titan attacks and easily distracted gods, although this particular story had a happy ending." Ariadne mused, pondering the details of the tale.

"The gods are remarkably flawed. We'd like to pretend we're miles above humans, but that would be a gross exaggeration. We have to take what we've been given, and do the best that we can with it."

Ariadne agreed with the first part, in her mind, but had the courtesy to not say it out loud, saying rather, "I suppose we must."

They traveled onward in silence, taking in the bustle of the community around them, and went to the stables at an inn in the center of the village. A fat man with a bushy mustache happily traded off their fine horses for a pair of mules with soft grey fur and wide brown eyes. The mules brayed, eager to ascend into the hills, and Dionysus and Ariadne obliged, as midday was approaching, and they had a destination to reach in a timely manner.

It was a slower pace up the hillside, but pleasant, none-the-less, and since the mules knew the path well, Ariadne found herself free to gaze across the rocky valley. Spring rain and summer sunshine had nurtured a whole range of wildflowers, painting the ground in hues of buttercup yellow, blood red, creamy-white and a delicate lavender.

The sun passed overhead across a wide blue sky. Ariadne was given occasionally reprieve by a wind which ruffled her tunic, and blew fluffy white cumuli nimbus across the face of the sun, until it peeked around and shone down once more.

Destiny awaited Ariadne at the end of their path, she could feel it. Or at the very least, answers.

They stopped at the path which lead up to Temple Adyton, they stopped tying their mules to a shady aspen tree.

The tree's gnarled roots twisted and turned, dipping into a shallow stream that bubbled up from a fountain, carved intricately into the coils of a snake, the water gushing from it's mouth to form the Castilian Spring. Ariadne and Dionysus stooped down to the water, and splashed it on their arms and faces, washing away the dust from travel, and Ariadne dampened her hair, smoothing down her dark locks, and cooling her temple and the sweat at the back of her neck.

She felt Dionysus' eyes on her and turned to where he stood.

"Did you see the moon?"

It was faint in the daylight, but there it was, near the peak of the mountain, full once more. Had it really been a month already? Ariadne thought back to a month ago, but it felt like whole ages had passed.

"I… am grateful. For this. For you helping me, and… also for just welcoming me; I needed a friend, and you were there. I appreciate that, I hope you know." Ariadne murmured, a little shyly, feeling awkward meeting his glance after having avoided it since their last dramatic interaction.

"Are you ready to face your fate?" He said, offering moral support, but Ariadne could sense the resignation — or sorrow — in his manner. He was putting up a brave front, and for a god, that was something he was probably not accustomed to having to do, and Ariadne appreciated the effort.

"I think so," she replied, "Are you?"

"I don't think telling futures to gods is something the Delphic Oracle is capable of doing. She'd burn up, trying to see that future."

They crossed the stream, and walked side-by-side up a path, through a grove of laurel trees, to a clearing which revealed the Temple. Hewn into the face of the cliff, Adyton of Delphic Apollo was not as structurally impressive as some of the Temples that were in Ariadne's own home, or probably in Athens, but it evoked an air of solemnity. Votive statues nestled between a set of narrow pillars, that held up the door mantle, which was carved intricately in depictions of leaves and flowers, but also snakes, and the same Gaia's navel carving from the town. On the supporting pillars on either side of the doorway, Ariadne's fingertips traced words carved into the stone, γνῶθι σεαυτὸν, μηδὲν ἄγαν

"Know thyself." Ariadne read the first phrase, and Dionysus followed with the second phrase written, "Nothing in Excess."

They stepped through the door, into a low passageway, dimly lit with olive oil lamps, the stone floor worn smooth by the feet of the faithful pilgrims and cult members to Delphic Apollo. Ariadne followed Dionysus's footsteps through the darkness, on for several meters, before the passage widened into a large antechamber with a tall ceiling and sunken floor that was laden with gifts for the Oracle.

Food, jars of spices, chests of silver and gold, furs and silks, and even weapons were strewn across the floor. Various live animals were housed at one end of the chamber in makeshift barn-stalls. There was even a large wicker cage of turtledoves, that cooed softly in the flickering light of several fire pits that sunk into the floor. The air was heavy with the aroma of the offerings and stuffy with the smell of animals, and a little smokey. Dionysus left two gold pieces at an alter beside the door, and the two pressed onward into a deeper anti-chamber.

This room was slightly smaller, but it had a spacious domed ceiling, even more votive statues, and a multitude of torches illuminated the frescoed walls and mosaic floor of the Temple's main interior. Here, Dionysus paused.

"You must go into the sanctuary by yourself." He said quietly, turning to her. He took her hand, as if he say something very particular to say, but thought better of it, and gave it a reassuring squeeze before letting it go. Ariadne was glad he could not see her face, for she was sure she was flushing, though involuntarily. Unfortunately, she couldn't read his face, but his voice was confident, and that boosted the confidence in her as well.

"Well, goodbye then." She murmured.

"Good fortune."

She stepped through the final door.

A cramped set of stairs wound downwards, and the air grew sweeter, somehow. Her fingertips sought the way down the side of the passageway in total darkness, feeling her path slowly, until Ariadne's feet found the bottom step, and her eyes adjusted to orange light which now illuminated her vision.

A figure sat at the center of the cylindrical chamber, at a tall, three-legged stool, leaning over a brazier built into the floor. Out of it poured the orange light, and Ariadne could only guess that the was the chamber where Python had come into creation, out of the volcanic womb of Mother Earth. Vapors rose from the brazier, filling the whole space, but concentrated where the figure sat. She wore what was once a white tunic, turned grey with soot, and a sooty grey veil over long, loosely curling dirty-blond hair, and her hands were folded in her lap. Probably no older than seventeen, the virginal Oracle looked up as Ariadne entered, although it was of no purpose, since the girl was clearly blind. Her milky-white pupils gazed through Ariadne, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Most honorable Oracle Pythia, I beg you assist me." Ariadne spoke, hoping she was addressing Apollo's favorite with the proper greeting of respect.

"Come forward," the priestess said, her voice surprising Ariadne, for it was low and scratchy like that of an old woman, "Who addresses the Delphic Oracle?"

"Ariadne, Daughter of Minos, Princess of Crete." Ariadne said, wondering if she should or shouldn't bow, if the girl couldn't see, but something at the back of her mind told her to pay her courtesies to the fullest propriety.

"That is not your full title, I think." The blind girl replied, looking through the other girl, as though she wasn't even there.

"I don't know what you mean?"

"You will, soon enough. I know who you are, Ariadne, but not as you described yourself. Mortal men put value on the father of the household, more than the mother, but if you knew your family's history, his status as king would be insignificant compared to the status of your mother." The oracle said, reaching up and lowering her sooty, translucent veil over her face.

Ariadne knelt a meter or so from the brazier, and wondered at those words. Her mother had always been a burden to her since the day of that dreadful curse, and only feelings of regret and embarrassment and shame clouded Ariadne's thoughts when she happened to think about her mother, so she avoided those thoughts like the plague.

What Pasiphae had been, before she was Queen to Minos, Ariadne did not know.

The minotaur had been imprisoned in the labyrinth, and his mother had been shut away in a remote palace wing, never visited or spoken of. Ariadne had been forbidden to see her mad mother, and so, never knew the tales that common mothers would tell their daughters. It had been difficult growing up without a mother, and for many years, Ariadne had selfishly begrudged Pasiphae the lack of normalcy in Ariadne's own life. But what she felt missing, more than the maternal presence in her life, was the guidance that neither her mad mother nor her proud, god-offending father could give her. Instead, the young princess solved her own problems, ultimately raising herself, under the shadows of the high Labyrinth walls.

The Oracle bent over the brazier, her veil creating a tent-like form which filled with coiling, smoky vapors. The girl breathed in and out in measured pace. She raised her head, "I see."

"What do you…see?" Ariadne asked, hesitantly.

"You do not need me." Was the abrupt reply.

"No! I mean, I- I do! I need direction, very much! I have to find what I am meant to do; I need to know my destiny." She pled, panicking that the priestess would send her away without answers, dreading going back to the uncertainty which had filled the last month, and indeed, her whole life.

"Ariadne, the Oracle is the lowly servant of Apollo. Before, I suspected what you are, yet I did not see the truth. The clouded vapors have cleared my sight, by Apollo's power. You do not need me, because you do not need a mediator to see your future. Your mother, Pasiphae, is daughter of Helios, Titan of the sun. You are of Divine blood, and of the sun, the all-seeing orb, you have power to see far, far beyond what I can see." The girl's voice had seemed old, cracked, at first meeting, but it took on a clear, young and fresh tone, speaking truth.

Ariadne's body and soul was a crashing ocean of surprise, doubt, and wonder, but the pieces seemed to fit together, more than ever before, and she trusted the words of the priestess before her.

"Descendent of Helios, you are more worthy than I to see what is to be. Come, let the scales fall from your eyes. Breath, and see the truth." Oracle Pythia beckoned Ariadne forward, and she submitted, approaching the chasm carefully. She bent over the brazier, where smoke and the orange glow filled her senses completely

It smarted at first, causing tears to well up in her eyes, and she felt as blind as the virgin beside her, until Ariadne drew her first breath. It was sweet, comforting, yet mysterious all at once. The darkness began to fade, with every subsequent draw of vapor, and Ariadne began to realize that even though her body was still in the sanctuary at Delphi, her spirit had traveled some great distance.

Ariadne was still underground; the rocky walls became more and more prominent as her eyes adjusted to the difference in light. For one thing, instead of the warm orange glow which the chasm had emitted, here there was a green, misty light which floated on a wide, subterranean pool spreading before her. The water was still, but for faint rippled caused by droplets of water, falling plink-plank-plunk from the tips of large, dark stalactites clinging to the cavern's formidably tall cathedral ceiling. It was cool, but not uncomfortably so, and perhaps Ariadne should have been afraid to be transported so suddenly from her body, but she was not. In fact, she was rather amazed at the recent discovery about her lineage, and decided that very little could faze her after this. She might be able to go back to Dionysus and look him in the eye, without feeling so hesitant.

She gazed down at her own hands, discovering that her spirit form was very much like her own, only filmy and translucent, like a mist herself. She walked towards a concentration of light, at one end of the cavern, weaving through a veritable forest of large stones and towering stalagmites.

Ariadne heard a faint chatter of voices, which became stronger as she approached, until stepping around a final boulder, she spied an unusual tableau spread before her.

Three old crones were seated in a circle facing each other, in a tangled mess of thread, the source of the green light.

"We have stranger in our presence, sisters!" One of the crones said suddenly, her head turning to look in Ariadne's direction, but kept at her work, sending her drop-spindle spinning once more. The two others looked up as well. All three crones wore black robes, their skin was pearly white and hung off their faces and boney arms in dusty, cobwebbed wrinkles. But most striking of all was that all three had empty eye sockets, but for a single golden eye, which currently resided in the face of the crone with the spindle.

"Or do we have a strange sister in our presence?" The crone with shears said, snipping here and there with her silver scissors.

"Perhaps this strange sister is a present." The third said, picking through the thread, measuring pieces and handing them off to the cutting crone.

Ariadne came forward, and bowed to the crones politely, addressing them, "Lady Fates."

"Why, child, how quaint. No one had called us ladies in many years, though you are correct, we are those of whom you speak. I am Clotho, the Spinner."

"I am Lachesis, the Measurer."

"And I Atropos, the Cutter. I want a look at her, pass the eye."

Clotho plucked the orb from her face with a scowl, and begrudgingly handed it to Atropos.

"What a dear. You young things are so lovely. I miss having hair." Atropos sighed, beaming a wrinkled smile kindly at Ariadne.

"You are very kind, mistress Atropos."

"I want to see her hair!" It was Lachesis this time, and when the eye was passed over, she too made comments about Ariadne's appearance, as old woman are apt to do. "I see you are a lovely thing, but besides attracting young gods, what hidden secrets and talents do you hold, granddaughter of Helios? Come here. "

Lachesis beckoned Ariadne to a seat beside her, and the girl obliged, taking in hand a tangle of threads handed to her by the Fate.

Clotho spoke, "I understand you went to the oracle for guidance, but discovered more than you expected,"

Ariadne nodded, and plucked at the tangle of threads like she had with her own thread in the labyrinth. The knot dissolved, untangling itself easily by her hands. She put the threads in order, and passed them to Lashesis.

"You yourself possess powers, as of yet unknown to you, and that is why the vapors brought your spirit here, I think. I see confusion in you."

The spinner Clotho blindly nodded with approval at Ariadne's work, and said, "The eye is in Lashesis' possession, but I have a vision. I see your past, spread out before me, from a moment ago, to the day you were conceived in your mother's womb. You have had a painful childhood, and yet through untold hardships, you sought the truth, your own destiny and purpose in life," She murmered this in a trance, her drop spinal gleaming as in span of its own accord in her hand, "That is a great virtue, living through such troubles, and still pursuing what is right and good it this world. Few people in your place would have done the same."

"This eye sees a girl, a human," Lashesis murmered, displaying to Ariadne the threads she had just untangled, "Through my vision, I see you have a divine gift. See here, by your own hand you straightened out the knotted life-threads of poor souls. This is your calling, to be their patron goddess, to help those in need untangle their troubled lives, like you did for yourself. Not many have the choice to take on the role of a Divine being. Will you accept it?"

"How? I am only part divine blood."

"The young god, Dionysus, waiting outside the temple of Delphi, is only part divine blood. He may have had a mortal mother, but more importantly, like you, he had a destiny to fulfill. You two are more alike than you think."

"I- wish, oh but I don't think I can… my mother, and my father, suffered so much at the hands of the gods, I couldn't become the thing which gave them so much pain."

Atropos smiled knowingly, pulling from her cloak a thread, delicate and shining like white starlight, and presented it to Ariadne, asking, "Do you know what this is?"

"Is it mine?" Ariadne asked, but knew the answer.

"Yes. Take it in your hand."

Ariadne hesitated a moment, but she felt the pull, her own desire to know the truth. She reached out, and plucked it up with the tips of her fingers. Another vision filled her mind, a vast night sky, brilliant with the light of a thousand constellations. Most brilliant of all, a half circle of stars, shining like her own life-thread. Voices of the fates spoke in her ear, "Do you see? That is the Corona Borealis. Your own crown, as a goddess, if you will accept it."

Ariadne gazed at it, marveling at the light it emitted. Sh let go of the thread, and at once she was back in the cave, the old women around her, waiting patiently.

Atropos said, "You fear that you will become what hurt you, but if you do not accept your role, who will be the voice for the troubled mortals? You will have the power to guide those who cannot defend themselves against the whims of the gods through their own labyrinths of life. Help them, be their advocate. Will you accept this role?"

"I accept."

The thread glowed gold, where Ariadne had touched it, and from that spot, the golden light bled through the whole thing, illuminating the strewn threads of mortals all around. Her own thread seemed to go on forever, no beginning and no end. As Ariadne now knew, it really didn't have an end.

She was immortal.

It felt- more. More than being human, every sensation in her body seemed increased. The vision of cave around her morphing, the fates fading away and the Delphic oracle coming into view, all the colors were more saturated, more bold. The rising vapors were sweeter and sharper, and the heat was greater, although Ariadne felt that even if she touched it's source, she would not burn.

The priestess bowed low, with a quiet, "Milady".

Ariadne smiled, pulling her up gently, "Please, don't. I was not the sort of princess to expect homage, and in that aspect I have not changed. You gave me direction, when I was in need. What direction can I give to you?"

Oracle Pythia balked, and seemed unsure of how to respond, "I have always helped people. Since I was a child, elected to be the next Oracle, I gave others direction. It has taken a toll on me; the vapors are sweet, but they have aged me, beyond my years. I should like to continue my work, but I am tired, so very, very tired."

"Then I grant you rest. This is my blessing for you, be rejuvenated."

The place on Oracle Pythia's arm, where Ariadne had pulled her up, began to glow softly, and the same glow shone in her eyes, and for a moment, the blindness was gone. Even after Ariadne released the priestess, the girl's face was fresher and brighter and years younger than she had been at Ariadne's arrival. She sat erect at her stool, smiling.

Ariadne left, passing through the passages and antechambers of the Temple at Delphi, into the bright moonlit world outside.

Night had fallen, and Ariadne soaked in the billions of sensations around her. The hoot of owls in the laurel trees, the croaks of frogs in the stream below, and the murmuring of the many creatures of the night filled her ears. A gentle breeze passed through the air, caressing her skin. She breathed in, savoring the smell of flowers from miles away, below in the valley. The night was beautiful to the young goddess. But more than the pleasures which she could now appreciate, Ariadne felt at peace. Well, except for one unresolved thing.

She walked down the path, searching for Dionysus. She wondered if, during the hours she was in the chamber, he had decided to leave. Had he done what he had promised, and just left like that? Ariadne wondered if his farewell in the temple had been their last one, in his mind. She was about to cross the stream, but saw his figure in the shadows, on a nearby rock, gazing at her wordlessly.

Something about the situation made her laugh, and she didn't hold it in. It wasn't a malicious laughter, but Dionysus' face seemed both so alternatively confused and enchanted that she couldn't help but express her amusement in its rawest form.

"What's so funny?" He asked, standing and approaching her, "You were gone a rather long time."

"Well, some things had to happen before I returned."

"I-" This time he was the one who was at a loss for words, when it the past month, that had usually been her, "I see you've… made some adjustments."

Ariadne hadn't gotten a chance to look at herself, but if Dionysus' godly appearance had been any indication of the beauty of the gods, she had probably _not_ diminished in physical attractiveness.

"I discovered that my grandfather was a Titan, all along I've had divine blood. It's ridiculous and amazing, isn't it?"

"How so?" Dionysus stepped forward.

"For all the time I fought against the idea of you, we were so similar." Ariadne explained, but got the sense that Dionysus was only half listening to her, and his attention was focused on something a little more tangible than talk.

"Indeed?" He took her left hand in his.

"I'm a goddess,"

"You are." Somehow, his right hand had found her waist.

"Truly, I am a goddess… I had the blood, or half of it, at least. More importantly, I had the destiny. I will help so many people, help them through the maze of life."

"You will." The space between them was swiftly closing.

"Dionysus, listen to me." She said solemnly.

"I am."

Ariadne figured she'd have to trust his word, and spoke, "You made an unbreakable oath to a mortal girl, that if she loved you by a month's time, you would love her and marry her. She may have loved you, but she died, and I, Ariadne, Mistress of the Labyrinth, took her place. You are held by your vow no longer."

Disappointment clouded his eyes, and Dionysus pulled away.

"Wait, please. You now have no obligation to take me, but if you do love me still, know that I love you. I love you, completely free, and as an equal. Will you take me as your wife?"

She barely had time to finish her speech, for he was back again, embracing her, showering her face with kisses, and Ariadne wondered how on Olympus she would ever be more happy then she was at that very moment.

They broke the kiss, a little out of breath, which means a bit more considering that both were divine, and didn't need much air to begin with. His arms stayed wrapped around her waist, and hers clasped at the back of his neck, and the shadows swathed them in the night.

"Well, will you?" Ariadne persisted, gazing up at him, solemnly.

"Yes," He replied huskily, "I swear it on-"

"I trust you! You don't have to swear on anything, I believe you," Ariadne interrupted, laughing.

"As you wish."

 **Author's Note:**

A little while later, but here it is! The last installment. Hopefully you all enjoyed this! There may be some continuity/spelling/grammar issues, I've tried to fix those as much as possible.

Big thanks to those who left a review on these chapters, including, _Unknown Mystic:_ I'm so flattered you enjoy my writing style!

 _Arielafina:_ Glad you appreciate this ship as much as I do,

 _Persephatta:_ I do love characters and their developments and interactions,

 _xxspiritxx:_ Finally finished, hope you enjoyed it!

Also thanks to some lovely guest reviewers!

Please tell me what you think, suggest future stories for me to write, cast the characters, or anything else! Also please favorite/follow this story and me as an author if you'd like to see more where this came from!

(If I get a flood of requests for an epilogue, I could be persuaded to write one for this story) I have a possible Persephone story in the works, but the concept is a little overdone, so I may hold off. I guess we'll see.

Thanks for sticking with me!

Hugs!

Pandorica


	4. a somewhat awaited epiloge

When Dionysus had first found Ariadne, just before their very first meeting, while she curled up sleeping in a birds-nest of tree branches, to him she seemed like spring incarnate. Was ever Persephone more fresh, more earthy, than this beauty who lay suspended in an other-worldly realm of leaves and sea breeze and morning sunlight? Her sleeping form possessed the loveliness that marked morning; dewy and sun kissed. He did not think that his abandoned princess could be anymore lovely then she was at that very moment.

This feeling became a common occurrence, however, and emerged at multiple points in the next month, surprising Dionysus, each and every time.

Their first night, Dionysus' companions circled around the bonfire, with laughter and music and dance, but the god of wine and revelry only had eyes for the daughter of Minos. Certainly, she could not be more enchanting then she was at that moment, eyes sparkling like the flames, body lithe and graceful in dance. Her voice was like doves at dusk, soft, dreamy and mesmerizing. He couldn't resist her siren-like draw, the half-smile on her lips, the maenad-like wildness in her eyes. When the night brought them together, at the stillness in the midst of the revelries blurred away all around, he couldn't help but stand still in time, and steal a kiss from Ariadne.

The third time was away from the Bacchanalial festivities of the wild maenads and satyrs at the villa, in a dark and quiet place, where moonlight reflected off a calm, lily filled pool, and swathed their encounter in an etherial luminosity. Moonlight kissed Ariadne's cheekbones, the cupid's bow of her upper lip, her collarbone, and played through her hair. She was like Artemis but warm, more attainable, more real, than the cold, virginal goddess of the Hunt. Ariadne was more alive, and that caused Dionysus' heart to sing. _This. This is the most beautiful she could ever be._ He had to have her, there was no other way.

On the storm-tossed Calypso, completely alone, as sea raged and beat on the timbers of their vessel. Ariadne shyly sought shelter in his cabin, to keep away from the storm, and Dionysus welcomed her into it's blessedly tight confines. He blessed Poseidon for sending such a storm.

At first he had tried to focus on his ledger, making the most of the stormy weather by catching up with the marks and tallies which came with trading casks of wine, but the knowledge of her, shedding her garments behind him, was an undeniable distraction.

And more so, the reflection of her back in the dark window he faced caught his eye. It was a cloudy view, but the mirrored image still romanced his eyes with sweet intoxication. The curve of her shoulders, a hint of her jawline, the way her wet hair tumbled down the paleness of her back, but most of all, the gentle geometry of her body overtook his mind.

He absentmindedly let the nub of his quill rest on the paper, bleeding ink into his scroll. Her body was neither curvaceous nor buxom, as the sea-born Aphrodite, but Dionysus was sure that this intoxicating, yet wholly unassuming woman was more gorgeous than she had ever been before, more gorgeous to him than goddess of Love herself.

At the end of the moon's cycle, Dionysus had given up hope. The pale orb had waxed fully, and he knew that he would never have Ariadne. She had gone to find herself in the depths of the Temple of Delphi, and as she had faded away down the dim passageway, misery choked his heart and he felt he could never face her again. Once outside, he intended to flee, to find his entourage of maenads, nymphs and satyrs, to start a bonfire.

He would get drunk; wildly, recklessly drunk, until he forgot the Princess of Crete and the hole she had carved into his soul. But his feet would not listen, would not carry him beyond the edge of the Laurel grove, so he sat beside the bubbling Castilian Spring and waited restlessly. The sun set. The moon rose, and he waited, not knowing why he tarried, but too lost in thought to continue forward.

Perhaps the muses whisper to immortal gods, too, for a tiny yet persistent twinkling of hope emerged in him, and he tarried.

He saw her, and all the previous assumptions of mortal and immortal beauty dissolved in this divine vision of Ariadne among the laurel trees on the Mount Parnassus. Her face and skin shimmered in a sheen of silver and gold light, her dark hair moved in a satin waterfall over her shoulders and back, her tunic floated around her like a gauzy cloud as she walked towards Dionysus with a grace which could only come from a goddess. She had the same face, but divine wisdom marked it. Her eyes bore the same shape, the same color, but when in the past, they had been filled with confusion or listlessness, they were filled with peaceful serenity.

The Muses are curious beings that have gazed upon the earth for eons, each with her own lens, her own perspective of the whole of history, as the years progress. There are Muses of history, of comedy, of tragedy, of epic poetry and of scientific thought, and depending on which perspective you choose to take, this story will seem a little different.

For example, the Muse of Astronomy, Urania, peers into the hearts of mankind and god alike, using logic and science and rules to understand their actions and feelings. And so, from a logical perspective, attraction between two individuals is bound by the unfailing laws of physics. A woman and a man will be attracted to each other with a force proportional the product of their masses, and inversely proportional to the distance between them. Attraction cannot grow beyond what it is, once Ariadne and Dionysus joined in marriage; or, that is the assumption of Urania.

Euterpe, the Muse of Lyric Poetry, has a different perspective on the events that transpired, concerning Ariadne and Dionysus. Euterpe translates as 'delight', she is the giver of joy, and despite Urania's logical, scientific perspective, it is Euterpe who sees their love with better understanding than her sister. From the rose-hued perspective of delight, Euterpe sees Dionysus and Ariadne become more and more attracted to each other with each passing day, laws of physics be damned.

Every time Dionysus tells a joke or pokes fun at Ariadne, every time she pushes him away, laughing, every time they stand side by side, arms entwined, over the cradle of their tiny immortal children, every time the Corona Borealis constellation shines in the night sky, Dionysus and Ariadne fall more and more in love.

Authors note:

Oh my gosh, I'm sort of emotional that this is over. Thank you for reading this little piece of my mind! I hope you thoroughly enjoy this view of Dionysus' perspective, and a little bit of Muses' also. Review, favorite and follow, if the muses inspire you to do so!

In response to some lovely reviews:

 _melina49_ : You've paid me the biggest complement by saying that this story is faithful to greek mythology. I love the whole greek mythos, and I confess I'm a bit envious of a heritage so rich with the characters and culture that I've been enchanted by since I first started reading. Slow burn romance is my favorite to write and read!

 _mika1617_ : I'm sorry you were confused, I decided to give Ariadne certain generic "god powers". It wasn't so much that Ariadne made the oracle young again, since she was actually supposed to be young to begin with, (just very, very tired from being a medium for divine fortune-telling), and Ariadne just replenished the energy that is needed for such a strenuous task for a mortal girl. Hope that clears up any confusion!

 _Arielafina_ and _The Unknown Mystic_ : Many thanks! Hope the epilogue satisfies!

So many hugs!

Pandorica


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